Deans Self Righteous Suicide
by SherlockianClaire
Summary: Is Dean really suicidal, or is there something deeper going on? Dean may have an inner demon, litterally... Will Sam get there in time, or will it be too late... (Not sure if I'm going to write more, my first SPN fic, let me know.)
1. Chapter 1

"Hold still! For Gods sake Dean!" Sam growled at his brother, giving him a firm shake to try and bring him back to reality.

"I'm trying to stitch this up, do you want to bleed out?" Exasperated, Sam let out a sigh and shook his head a little.

* * *

_You know what Sam, I do! I'm done! Just let me go! _Dean could see it playing out in his head.

He could see the pain infuse into Sam's eyes, his brows furrow, the confusion and hurt on his face. He couldn't put Sam through that, Dean was ready to let go, but Sammy wasn't, and he wasn't about to give Sam something else to bitch about_. "Besides, he'd probably try to stop me..." _Dean thought bitterly.

* * *

"Sorry Sammy." Was all Dean grumbled under his breath.

The boys fell into an uneasy silence after that. Sam's hand trembled a little, which had never happened before, it didn't go unnoticed, but Dean thought better than to mention it, he held back a flinch or two as Sam stitched him up. It had been a bad hunt. They didn't know much about this monster, spirit, or whatever it was, they had nothing to go on. Went in blindly, and came out worse for wear. The thing was still out there, as far as they knew, but it was injured, so it bought them a little time.

Dean had a large angry looking gash, from the middle of his chest, stretching across his ribs down the left side. Sam patched him up, still in silence, then went into the motel bathroom to clean himself up.

Dean rolled over and grabbed the half drank bottle of whiskey from the bedside cabinet and took a lengthy swig. Elbows on knees, head in his hands, he rubbed his forehead. _ Damn, I'm getting to old for this shit, gimme a break._

He felt a sharp pain in his head, and again, then everything went dark.

* * *

The floor of the old warehouse creaked under his boots, the mud that caked them left trails behind both, Sam and Dean._ Pretty crappy if we need to hide. _Dean rolled his eyes. The storage unit had no security, so they were in the clear in that circumstance at least.

There had been countless reports of people going missing, there was no specific target or pattern that they could see. The brothers had split up, agreeing to meet in the middle. Everyone who had gone missing, had worked in this warehouse.

After several minutes of creeping around, Dean felt a little more at ease, he began looking in boxes and crates, routing around, he found some pretty cool things, a few nice cars, some old signed posters, he spent a particularly long time looking through a box filled with old playboy cuttings.

_Now this is a man I can relate to, _Deans was distracted, that silly grin on his face.

He put the clippings back and moved on. In the corner there was a tall object, shrouded in a white dust sheet, as if in a trance he walked over, and typical Dean, he couldn't just look, he had to touch. He ripped the sheet down, and there before him, stood himself. The huge 6ft mirror looked worn and rustic.

He stood there staring for a moment, there was something off, something that didn't settle well with him. He stepped a little closer to it, and reached out, touching finger tips with his own reflection.

_It rippled. _Dean blinked, not trusting his eyes for a moment, and touched it again. _This is it. The thing ripples! _He had a theory, one he wanted to test, and he didn't want to wait around for Sammy. He reached up to the mirror, and this time, put a little pressure on, and as easy as that, his hand slipped through.

_No way, you gotta be shitting me. _Deans grin widened, _This is awesome! _

He pulled his phone out and called Sam.

"Whats up?" Sam's immediate reaction was nothing out of the ordinary, worry laced his voice.

"No, nothing Sam, I mean, I've found this thing, you're not going to believe me!" Dean reeled off excitedly.

"What do you mean? What's happened Dean?" Sam's voice still held an air of concern.

"I mean, you've gotta come see this! Hurry up man! You can't miss it, huge mirror!" And with that Dean hung up.

Sam turned on his heal. This didn't sound normal, a hunt for some evil sonovabitch, and Deans getting excited over something, definitely not normal.

Dean, hand still in the mirror, was a little awe struct. Abruptly, there was an ice like grip around his wrist and head first, he was pulled in, dropping his phone.


	2. Chapter 2

(_Sorry it's so short, been a long day, but needed to get something out, still unsure on whether to continue this, we shall see.)_

Sam could see the top of the mirror from the other side of the room. He weaved through the boxes and crates and came face to face with himself.

"Dean?" He called, scanning the area.

Nothing.

"Dean?!" He called louder.

Again, nothing.

Something scuffed the side of his boot, unconsciously thinking it was a rock, he thought nothing of it. He grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket and dialled Dean. He could hear the familiar riff of Deep Purple -Smoke on the Water, Deans ringtone. But it was too loud, too close, aAnd there it was Dean's phone, by his foot.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and pushed it away from his face. Then the mirror began to move.

A bloodied hand burst through the glass and grabbed the bottom of the frame, and then the other, feeling around for something to grab hold of, then came the head.

_Dean? _Sam had no time to process, he instinctively ran forward and gripped Deans fore arms, pulling him out.

Before Sam could say anything, or even give Dean his exasperated look, Dean scrambled up and launched himself at Sam, hands grappling for anything, something solid, he snatched Sam's gun and began firing, aimlessly, at the mirror until it fractured to pieces. He then fell to his knees, looking down at his hands as the shards of glass rained down on him, cutting into his skin. He caught his reflection again, black eyes stared back at him coldly, and he collapsed into Sam's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam dragged him away and propped him against a crate, removing the gun from Deans grip and reloading it to be cautious. The coast seemed to be clear, whatever Dean had done, it seemed to be over, he shook Deans shoulders, trying to wake him up.

"Ahhh, what – " Dean went to push Sam off him, but with a hiss of pain, thought better of it.

"Dean?" Sam question attentively.

"Quit girling out on me Sam." Dean protested .

Sam simply crossed his arms and frowned.

"I'm fine, just help me up and get me out of here." Sam did as he asked. _Dean asking for help? Not like him._

Sam shut the door on Dean in the passenger seat, got in, and drove them back to the motel.

* * *

Sam washed the blood off his hands after cleaning his brother up, he hoped Dean would be fine after a long nights sleep, he'd been drinking a lot more recently, and wasn't on his A game. Sam splashed some cold water on his face and held onto the sink basin. _He doesn't remember what happened, how the hell does he expect me to believe that? Three possible theory's. He's either a better drunk than I ever thought, something happened to him, causing memory loss, or he just doesn't want to tell me._

He grabbed a towel and dried himself. There was no way he could talk Dean into spilling his guts, but he knew there was something going on, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He needed his laptop, and coffee. Lots of coffee.

He opened the door to see Dean on the bed in what looked to be an uncomfortable position, _probably because of the gash on his chest, _Sam though, amused at Dean for a moment, before the opened bottle of whiskey in Deans hand caught his eye.

Sam felt a heat of anger rise in his chest, _what is he doing to himself, _but now wasn't the time, he'd let him rest first. Sam slipped his arms into his hoody, grabbed his laptop, and shut the door silently behind him, heading to the 24/7 dinner across the street.

* * *

Dean shot up out of bed with a gulp of air. _It was so__** real. **_Something he did not want to experience again. Reliving the whole scene back in that world. The shapeshifter/demon/whitch. She had got in his head. His chest felt damp, he was having a cold sweat, shaking slightly, he brought the whiskey bottle to his lips and drank deeply. His chest wound burned, he'd ripped some of the stitching open. _Crap._

He let his head fall back onto the pillow and starred at the ceiling.

"Hey Dean." He was still asleep, he had to be, that voice, so familiar… He automatically reached under his pillow and grabbed his knife, all the while slowly sitting up.

His eyes widened as she came into view.

"Jo?" Deans voice came out hoarse.


	4. Chapter 4

"Didn't think you'd see me again, huh?" Jo smiled and walked over to the bed.

"How?" Dean questioned, head still foggy from whiskey, that seemed to be all he could muster.

"Still not the brightest button..." Jo laughed and sat herself down at Dean's feet, his grumpy pout always made her smile.

"How do you think I'm here Dean?" She asked gently.

"I- I don't know- " He shook his head, "You've been- you know, for a long time, why- why now?" His frown deepened.

"You can say it Dean." Her voice held a slight edge to it now.

"Dead, Dean. Yes. I've been dead." Dean couldn't put his finger on it, she didn't sound upset, equally, she didn't sound angry.

"So, tell me, how did you do it?" Dean asked again, with more conviction in his voice. He was becoming suspicious now, something wasn't right.

"I didn't do anything." Jo laughed coldly. She moved quickly, pushing Deans chest, his weak spot, so he was lying flat, and straddled him.

"What the hell Jo-?" Dean winced. He was at a disadvantage. _What the hell is happening? _His thoughts raced.

Jo grabbed a handful of his hair and squeezed tightly.

"Ahhh!" Dean hissed and tried bucking her off him with his hips, his arms were no use, she had them pinned down by his sides.

Jo cocked her head to one side and studied him for a moment.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen..." She mused.

Dean went to speak, but she punched him hard in the jaw. Her grip on his hair didn't let up and it pulled tighter as his head reeled from the hit.

"A drunk, a butchered drunk who can't even hold his own." She sneered.

_Impossible, she can't be a vengeful spirit, Jo would know better, she wouldn't linger around. But then what?_

Her face scrunched up, contorted with what seemed close to rage now.

"I had to die, for this? What's so sodding special about you, huh?" She growled leaning close into his face.

"Jo-" Dean tried again, but this time she put pressure on his chest wound again. Dean's words turned into a grunt as he tried to control the spasm of pain.

"I thought I made it clear, you need to shut the hell up." Jo spoke calmly now, her voice ice cold.

"Even Sam can't stand the sight of you. He's embarrassed by you. He knows you're a mess, and he's getting bored of your bullshit macho crap." Jo released her grip of his hair and stroked his cheek.

"Can you even remember the last time Bobby called?" She pulled a mock sad face.

Deans heart was racing. He couldn't put two and two together. He wished Sam was here now. He wished he didn't have to listen to all this crap.

Dean gave her his best cocky smile, trying to relay the fact that she was powerless and whatever she was trying to do wasn't working.

"Oh Dean, with those big sad eyes, you're not fooling anyone. I know you can feel it. Everyone's aversion to you? I can tell you why if you want?" Her voice purred, a little softer now.

"You can answer me now Dean, it's okay, would you like me to tell you?" Her voice gentle now, but still a little mocking, as if she felt sorry for him.

Dean liked his lips, his mouth had gotten so dry, his throat felt like sand paper. He shook his head, words unable to come out.

"Now, that's not the Dean I remember, no sarcastic remark?" She leaned forward, looking Dean in the eyes.

"Death follows you Dean. You think you save all these people, people you don't know. But they will die eventually. What makes it so, so, sad, is that the people you actually care for, they all die." She whispered into his ear.

Deans eyes grew wide, he began shaking his head slowly.

"No? Let's see, your mum died, Sam's future, you remember Jessica? Everything was fine until you turned up. Then there was Layla, she was lovely, visited church every week, but you took her chance of life away. She was so close Dean, you knew she was next. But instead, you lived and she died." Jo cupped his face so he couldn't move and avert her gaze.

"Let's not forget dear old dad... Now that's another pretty obvious one. He literally died for you, in every sense of the meaning. And how do you repay him? By turning into a worthless drunk!" She slapped him hard across the face, and then placed her hands back on his cheeks, gently rubbing the reddening patch of skin with her thumb.

"Then there's me. Dean, I'm _dead, _and I'm not coming back. How could you leave me?" She looked hurt now, tears threatened to spill over in her eyes.

"Jo- you- you told me to leave you- I didn't want to- you have to believe me!" Dean's words spilled out in a struggle to defend himself. In the back of his mind, he was convinced she was right. This was a last ditch attempt to convince himself otherwise.

"No Dean!" Jo shouted, "You left me to die!"

"No- no-! " Dean trembled. He didn't did he? That's not how he remembered it.

"And my mother! She loved you. She would do anything for you. It didn't take much for you to leave her there to die with me. She could have got out. She could still be alive now!" Jo had raised her voice, and Dean could feel her hatred for him.

He couldn't help but see this from her point of view. _She has a point I guess, I shouldn't have left Ellen. I should have stayed. Been there with Jo until the end. I should have done something different. Damn it! I was supposed to save them, not send them off to die._

Dean closed his eyes slowly, they were beginning to burn with the threat of tears.

When he opened his eyes, Jo was gone. Dean glanced around anxiously, there was no trace of her. He sat up again, slowly, cringing with the pain in his chest, mentally and physically.

_This isn't how it's supposed to be._

He scrubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and took a deep breath. Dean stood up on shaky legs and took a step forward, he braced himself on the bedside locker as he stumbled a little, hand brushing against the keys to his baby. He grabbed them without thinking, shoving his arms into his jacket, not forgetting the bottle of drink, and left for his car.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam had drank coffee after coffee, trawling through pages of internet search engines. But nothing new was coming up. Certainly nothing for this specific mirror, apart from the fact it was old, so old that no one had managed to pin point and date its origin. As to the folklore, legends, and myths about mirrors, there was nothing new there, alternate universes, portals to hell, demons gates, the reflection of the soul, but, surely if it was something in their pay grade, Dean would tell him.

He couldn't make sense of it.

It was beginning to get light outside, he'd been in there all night and Dean would probably be waking up in a couple of hours. He grabbed two coffees to go and a couple of bagels and headed back.

Approaching the motel, Sam couldn't see Dean's car. It was highly unlikely Dean would be up at 5am, he would stay in bed until 2pm if he could. _Shit, please, if someone's stolen his car, I will never hear the end of it!_

He opened the door to their room and the stale smell of alcohol, and the metallic hint of iron hit his nose. He glanced at Dean's bed, it was covered in dark red blood. _Shit_. Sam cursed, Dean must have teared the stitching in his sleep.

"Dean?" Sam called out as he walked over to check the small bathroom. Nothing.

Sam set the coffees down on the bedside locker and noticed a sticky ring. _That's where the whiskey had been. Deans gone, the whiskeys gone, and the impala's gone. Nothing good could come of this._

Sam immediately grabbed his phone and rang Dean, the phone rang off, straight through to voicemail. Sams next port of call was to ring Bobbi, surely he could do something.

* * *

Dean sped down the highway, he didn't know how long he'd been driving for. He was going far too fast, he had no plan, he just needed to drive. He pushed play on the cassette player and Iron Maiden – Can I play with madness, blasted through the speakers. He took a chance and dared to look in his wing mirror, something he'd been avoiding, his reflection. But there he was, dark black eyes staring back at him. He took another swig from the whiskey bottle, only to find it lighter than it should be, he didn't remember drinking that much, he glanced down and shook the bottle, rolling his eyes.

He brought his eyes back up to the road, only to see car headlights much closer than anticipated. Confusion clouded his brain, eyes shining with a mixture of fear and acceptance, he braced himself. This was it.

He'd gradually ended up on the wrong side of the road. The internal struggle was something he'd never experienced before. He always chose to live, he always looked for a way out. But this time, it didn't cross his mind. Something in him willed his hands to move. Call it what you want, but by some miracle he gave a sharp turn of the wheel and ended up in a ditch, the front headlight smashed to pieces from the tree that collided with him.

His body slumped forward over the wheel, his chest wound ripped open once more, revealing something a little more disturbing, black tar like substance oozed out from the broken skin. But he was out cold. None the wiser.

Some time later, Dean blinked, his vision swimming, warm liquid dripped down the left side of his face. He braced himself on the wheel and took a few deep breathes before swinging the door open. The cold night air made him shiver, but brought him back to his senses.

He'd been driving somewhat aimlessly for hours, but in the back of his mind he knew where he was going. He recognised this place, slowly, he began moving, stumbling here and there on the uneven grassland, he had found what he was looking for.

Blinking back tears, he laid a hand on the cold head stone, he let out a shaky breath that fogged in the still air. Running a hand across the letters, he sank to his knees, not caring about the damp dewy grass.

The sun was beginning to peak in the distance now. He sat on the dirt, leaning against the grave stone, arms held tight to his chest to alleviate some of the pain, that's when another part of him broke. It had been a long time since he had visited them, and all he had to say was 'I'm sorry'.

It started as an uneven phrase, sounding a little foreign on his tongue, he repeated it, this seemed to be his new mantra, he got louder, then quieter, he became almost incoherent through sobs at some point, and now, it was just a whisper, and that whisper held more conviction and truth than anything he'd ever said.


	6. Chapter 6

_(Sorry for the wait guys, it's been another super busy weekend! It's a little short again, but I'm working on the next chapter and it's gonna be a big chunk! Also, apologies for any typos etc, wrote this very hungover :( fingers crossed it's okay!)_

* * *

Sam persistently rang Bobby, ringing through to voicemail numerous times, he refused to give up, and eventually Bobby picked up.

"What'dya want? Calling like that! Sometimes I am busy y'know!" Bobby grumped down the phone, letting out huff and paused for a second.

"Well?" He asked without giving Sam much time to scramble together an explanation.

"It's Dean." And that's all Sam had to say, Bobby could tell immediately that something was badly wrong just by the tone of his voice.

"What's he done? Where is he?" Bobby's voice portrayed his urgency to know.

"That's the problem Bobby, I- I don't know!" Sam spoke.

"Just start from the beginning boy." Bobby grumbled.

"Well, we were on a hunt, there was no links between the victims, apart from this warehouse. We were checking the place out, and I get this weird call from Dean. All excited about a mirror." Sam reeled off.

"A mirror you say?" Bobby mused and Sam could hear papers rustling.

"So, I get there and he's gone! The next thing I know he's climbing _out _of the mirror. Beaten up and bleeding, he grabs my gun and blasts the thing to pieces! I mean, how did he even get in there in the first place? And what the hell happened in there? He had this huge gash on his chest, and now he won't even talk about it! God Bobby, and now he's missing. Not a trace of him. His cars gone, and, um, so is the bottle of whiskey. And I'm useless, I've found nothing!"

"Will you just calm down! How the hell am I supposed to think with you whinging in my ear! I know this is a bad situation, but we need to treat as a normal case, for now at least. I know you ain't gonna like this, but I took necessary precautions. You boys go missing too often, so, I might have put a GPS tracker on Dean's car." Bobby ended in a mutter.

"Dean's going to kill you when he finds out. But right now, I couldn't be more thankful! Where is he?" Sam let out a small sigh of relief.

Bobby went quiet on the other end of the phone.

"Bobby, what is it?" Sam said evenly.

"Greenville Cemetry, Illinois." Bobby murmured.

Sam cursed on the other end of the phone.

"Why there? Of all places?" Sam questioned, he couldn't rap his head around it. They hadn't been there in years.

"It'll take me over 8 hours to get there Sam, I have a friend, in Jefferson city, you close by?" Bobbys gruff voice was starting to sound frustrated now.

"Yeah, I'm not far from there. 20 minute bus ride," Sam replied

"You get there, he'll have a car you can use, if you floor it, you'll be there in about 2 hours. Tell him I sent you. I'll text you the details."

"Thanks Bobby." Sam was about to hang up when Bobby interrupted him.

"I'll be looking into the mirror situation Sam, but if it's what I think, it's going to get messy. It's not an easy fix. I'll call you if I find anything, and if- when you find Dean, as much as you and me both want to give him earache, try and bite your tongue. Now, get on yer way!" And with that, Bobby hung up. Leaving Sam even more lost.

Sam made his way around the motel room, grabbing all their belongings and stuffing them in duffel bags. He glanced at the ruined bed sheets, an uneasy feeling in his stomach, usually, they'd spend half an hour cleaning up properly and getting rid of them, too many questions otherwise. But he didn't have time. He shut the door tight behind him, and posted the keys through the letter box of the front office, and headed to the bus station.

* * *

(Feedback is massively welcome! Anything at all! After all, it's my first SPN fic, so any pointers are welcome! ) 


	7. Chapter 7

(_Okay guys, I couldn't resist posting the next chapter, it kinda just came out really fast!)_

* * *

Dean's head hung limply, his chin resting on his chest, the slow rise and fall, the only indication he was still alive. From an outsider's point of view, it looked like a bad murder scene. His head wound was now crusted in dried blood and a large lump had formed under the skin. His jaw was starting to bruise, along with his cheek, and the large gash on his chest, the skin around it, red and burning, and the infection now bled black. Sweat was beading on his forehead as his fever was gradually rising.

He awoke with a shock, the air was knocked out of his lung as a solid boot buried itself in his stomach. Gulping for air and cringing in pain, he looked around for his assailant. After setting eyes on him, his heart begin racing. It was like he had ghost sickness all over again.

Alastair stood there and began laughing. Dean tried to shuffle away from him, but he was in a bad way and couldn't move more than a few inches at a time.

Alastair followed him, slowly, stepping carefully.

"No need to look so afraid Dean, it's not like we need to start all over again." He bent down so he was eye level with Dean.

"You can't be here. You can't." Dean closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to disperse the image, he was shaking violently.

"Oh but I am. I'm here to make sure you haven't forgotten. Or, do you want to start all over?" He smiled callously.

"How could I forget?" Dean spat.

All that torture he endured. Forty years. For what? Nothing, because he caved in. He broke. He became what he hated. All the hurt and pain he inflicted on people, what he had become!

"Dean, I need you. I need you back again, you have such a special skill. I would like to put it to use." Alistair flicked a knife out and began to play with it.

"The things I've seen you do Dean, all you needed was a little knife. What do you say? Join me?"

"No, I won't. And you can't make me." Dean tried backing of again, but found he couldn't move.

"Well, if that's how you want to play it, I broke you once Dean, it would be my absolute pleasure to do it again, show you who you really are!" Alastair smirked, Dean had seen that look before, his eyes grew wide and he prayed to anyone that would listen to come and help him.

"Remember Dean, I can make you feel things, feel pain from things you wouldn't normally. But that was in hell. Let's see what happens here." He grinned, moving the knife to Dean's throat.

Dean tensed, eyes shining.

"Let's see, how about, silver. This is a silver knife. You know what silver burns? Monsters. Shall we see what you are? Human or Monster?" He spoke calmly.

He touched the knife onto Dean's skin, putting pressure on until the skin broke and beads of blood began to appear. The skin began to blister and burn against the knife and Dean clenched his teeth.

"See, it's not nice is it? All those times you were the one doing this..." He dragged the knife down in a straight line, leaving a trail of blood. After a few seconds of bleeding, the blood changed, it was no longer red, but black.

"Would you look at that?" Alastair marvelled.

Dean glanced down, seeing the black discharging from his chest, and again, his heart rate climbed to an alarming speed.

Before Dean could blink, Alastair had pulled out a flask.

"Holy water! Remember Dean? Oh the fun we had with that!" Deans mind flashed back to his time in hell. The memories he'd locked away, they came flooding back. The holy water. That's what tipped him over the edge. How it _burned _his insides.

Dean tightened his clenched jaw, teeth grinding together. Eyes as wide as anything.

"Come now Dean, it didn't work before, what makes you think it would now..." Alastair clicked is fingers and against his will, Deans mouth began to open.

His lips curled open first, then slowly his teeth parted ways.

Alastair raised the flask and began tipping it into his mouth. Dean screamed, but it came out as a gurgle.

His mouth, throat, stomach, was on fire! As his heart beat dangerously fast, it pumped the scorching liquid around his veins. Progressively, every part of him began to burn, from the inside out. It was as if the fires of hell were raging inside him. When the last drop entered his system, he began to cough, spitting blood.

Then Alastair was gone, leaving him staring up into friendly eyes.

* * *

_(__Don't forget to leave a review please! It's what keeps me going, pointers are 100% welcome! The next chapter should be up tomorrow night!)_


	8. Chapter 8

_(Sorry guys, it was a toss up between a chapter this length or none tonight and a longer one tomorrow! I wanted to write more, but it's gone midnight and I have to be up at 6am for work! I hope its okay! Any flaws, please let me know!)_

* * *

Sam's thoughts were racing, he'd barley spoken to Bobby's friend, whoever the hell he was. He seemed to be a recluse, someone who had seen their world and not handled it well. An old man, but a sensible man. Sam had a small cut on his arm from where he was tested with silver, and his shirt had just about dried off from the mug of holy water thrown over him.

If he was on a normal case, he would have spent more time with him, he was curious, Sam wanted to know his story, what he'd seen and experienced, and then learn from him, but it wasn't normal. Thinking back on it, he must have seemed rude, barging in, demanding a car, and not leaving on the best of terms...

His foot was hard on the pedal, burning through gas. His phone pressed hard between his hand and the steering wheel, nervously checking it over and over again, even though he knew it hadn't gone off. His palms were damp and warm, eyes alert, he was getting close now, he'd be driving for almost 2 hours and he couldn't afford to miss anything.

His phone buzzed in his hand and he swerved the wheel as he jerked to answer.

"What have you found Bobby?" Sam didn't have time for niceties.

"Lovely to speak to you to Sam! I may have something, but it's too soon to say anything just yet. I can tell you what to do, but I ain't telling you what's happening in case I'm wrong! Which I'm hoping I am." Bobby ranted.

"Then why the hell are you calling?!" Sam growled down the phone.

"Don't take that tone with me boy! I'm calling to give you some advice!" Bobby spoke sternly.

"Sorry Bobby." Sam replied.

"Hmph. Now, when you find him, I have a feeling he'll be in a bad way. You need to keep him conscious. And whatever you do, don't let him outta your sight." He instructed.

"Got it. Anything else I need to know?" Sam was almost falling back into soldier mode, taking after Dean, when things got rough for the people they were close to, he became harsh.

"Just, I know it's hard, 'specially with Dean, but be gentle, and try and have some patience." Bobby finished.

"Okay, call me as soon as you have an update."

"The same to you Sam. If you can, drive him straight here, to mine. It'll be easier if both of us can keep an eye on him." And then he hung up.

The phone lingered at Sam's ear for a moment, as he processed the new information, or lack of it. _What the hell is he not telling me._

Dean had been through a lot, but he hadn't gone off the radar like this in a long time. Sure he wasn't completely himself, but he'd never just left without saying a word to Sam.

Fifteen minutes later Sam's eye caught some skid marks in the road, trailing them with his eyes, they fell onto the Impala.

Sam's heart skipped a beat, he pulled over and ripped of his belt and pushed the car door open.

And there it was, Dean's car, door wide open, headlight smashed to pieces on a tree. Sam leaned into the car and grabbed a few weapons, taking every precaution. His gun, a knife, and holy water.

Sam ran through the tall grass and came to a sharp stop when he saw his brother.

In bad way.

He crouched down and softly settled his hands on Dean's shoulders. He was rigid. Far too hot to the touch. There was a large nasty looking lump on his head, crusted with dried blood. He stared in horror as a long line was drawn down Dean's chest, blistering and burning, blood ran from the broken skin and turned an ugly black, that's when he noticed the deep wound he'd stitched up the previous night had broken open and was also oozing a think black gunk.

He shook his brother gently trying to wake him up, but all that achieved was a deeply pained expression, he watched Dean's jaw clench and spasm open, revulsion turned his stomach as he held his brother, Dean was trembling, Sam tried again, tempted to slap his brother just to wake him from whatever trance he was in, but upon seeing the bruising along his jaw line and cheek thought better of it.

Then Dean began to choke, if Sam wasn't concerned before, now he was pretty alarmed, a strangled gargle broke from his brother and he watched as he spat up blood. Sam pressed a hand to Dean's cheek and called his name.

That's when his eyes finally cracked open, and Sam saw the fear in his brother's eyes.

_Please, Dean, why won't you tell me! _Sam begged mentally.

* * *

_(Reviews, reviews, I write for them! If it's good let me know, I'll get more up and quicker, if its not to fabby, let me know where to improve! Please! Also thanks for the reviews so far! It makes my day reading them! More to come tomorrow!)_


	9. Chapter 9

_(okay guys, it's getting close now! Sorry for dragging it out a little! Not long until we know whats troubling Dean, maybe then we'll also see how far Dean is willing to go...)_

* * *

"S- my-!" Dean slurred, Sam could see his brothers' mouth moving, trying to get words out, but by the sounds of things, his throat was in bad shape.

"Hey, hey Dean, it's me, yeah, it's Sam, I got you." Sam spoke gently but clearly, trying to enforce his calm words into Dean's internal feelings, it seemed to be working a little, and he could feel Dean's muscles relax a little as Sam cradled his arms around him.

"Dean, I need you to try and work with me, we need to get you to the car and out of the sun." Sam was soothingly trying to persuade Dean to get up, he dropped the knife and flask on the ground, and shoved the gun in the back of his jeans, freeing his arms so he could lift Dean.

Dean grunted in pain, but seemed to take on board what Sam was trying to say, he twisted a little so he was in a better position for Sam to help him, and together they made their way upright. Sam took Dean's full weight almost, and on steady feet, he began walking his brother forward. Dean on the other hand, could barely hold his own and stay on his two feet, he managed a few steps, until he tripped on the flask, and if it wasn't for Sam, he'd be back on his arse.

For a second, Deans vision blurred, the flask, holy water, Alastair had hold of him. He tried pulling away, but he wasn't strong enough, he was pulled in tighter. He couldn't breathe, his chest felt too tight. Fear had gripped him, _is this what a panic attack is?_ From all the thoughts ready to burst in his head, this as the one he settled on.

Someone was calling his name, or at least he thought they were, someone far away, that voice, he recognised it, he focused on the tone, and it got louder and clearer.

"Dean! Dean come on! I need you to snap out of it! I need you awake! Dean!" Sam was shaking his brother, his voice laced with concern.

Dean's world came back into focus, the warmth of his brother down one side of him, burning through his shirt, he was damp with sweat, glancing at Sam's expression, he cursed in his head, Sam looked scared, and he felt he owed him some explanation.

"Ho-ly w-ter." Dean grunted, he'd lost all tone of voice and it came out as more of a growl. He hoped Sam understood, he just couldn't be around damn _holy water. _

Sam gripped Dean firmly and dragged him the rest of the way to the Impala. He understood what Dean had said perfectly, but it didn't fit, none of this was making any sense, why the hell was he having a panic attack over holy water? Had Sam missed something? Was there a Demon nearby? He couldn't help but have a continuous stream of questions.

He gently sat Dean in the car and grabbed their first aid kit from the boot. Sam frowned. He wasn't sure how to fix some of Dean. The lump on his head needed ice. His fever needed bringing down, so he wound the window right down. He took a bottle of water and poured it on a cloth, settling it on Dean's head. He looked over the chest wounds and tried ignoring the hisses of pain coming from his brother. He touched the black sludge and couldn't quite believe his eyes, it seemed to be just like the residue demons leave after possession... He couldn't focus on that right now, he'd be there all day looking into it. He just knew he needed to get on the road and let Bobby know what was happening.

"Dean, are you with me?"

Dean lifted his arm and placed a hand on Sam's forearm. His throat was too raw to speak, so he hoped Sam understand that he was there with him, in reality, at least he thought this was reality.

Sam quickly walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. Using the back of his hand to test Dean's temperature, he was burning up, far too hot. For the second time that day, Sam started his journey, breaking the speed limit, with every intention of breaking every single one he came across.

He and Dean were stuck in this car for the next 10hours until they arrived at Bobby's, and Sam had every intention of getting as much information out of Dean as possible. His frustration was beginning to turn to anger now.

* * *

_(Okay, I know its a little slow, but it's going to pick up soon, I promise! You might be able to figure out whats going on in the next chapter... And please let me know what you think! The reviews so far have warmed my heart and spurred me on to continue! Thank you so much! Until tomorrow night!)_


	10. Chapter 10

_(Okay guys, here goes, I hope this is okay! I've written this on 4 hours sleep, been up since 6am and been at work all day, it's almost 1 am now, I wanted to write more, but I have to be up at 6am again, so I need to get to bed!)_

* * *

Dean leaned his head back and let out a long breath. He laughed cynically, the mental state he was in right now was questionable, and the physical state, well, everyone could see that, but what was so funny, was that in this moment, Dean was more concerned about getting blood and black crap on his car than anything else.

Sam glanced at Dean from the corner of his eye but said nothing. He spent the first ten minutes of the journey racking his brains for something to say, a way to broach the issue, but he was struggling for words. He knew his questions couldn't be too complex, as Dean wasn't able to give lengthy answers.

"Here, drink some water." Sam handed Dean a bottle of drink, he looked like he was about to drift off, Bobby said that was not allowed, so, here goes distraction number one.

Dean took the bottle from his brother and twisted the lid, or at least tried to, his hands weren't working properly, and every time he tensed his muscles, the pain grew. He gave up, and just held the bottle, feeling too proud to ask Sam for help.

After another few miles, without a word, Sam took the bottle from Dean, unscrewed the lid, and handed it back to him, concealing a pained expression at having to do such a small task like this for his brother.

Dean accepted the bottle back from Sam and took a few swigs before handing it to Sam to put the lid back on.

"Dean- we really need to talk about th-!" Sam began before Dean interrupted.

"Not got anything stronger?" Dean cut in, he could really do with a bottle of whiskey, something to numb the pain.

"No Dean, what the hell man! This needs to stop!" Sam knew exactly what Dean was getting at, and it was times like these that made his blood boil, that always seemed to be Deans answer to everything, but not this time, he wasn't going to let it, Dean would be going stone cold sober if he could help it.

Dean rolled the window of back up in protest. If Sam was going to be like that, he was going to make everything as much of a struggle as he could, if it meant his fever was to rise, then fine, he was playing huffy older brother. Dean mentally rolled his eyes, what the hell was he doing, he couldn't quite believe his childishness, but chose to blame it on the current circumstances.

_Be gentle, and try and have some patience. _

Bobby's words echoed in Sam's head and he scolded himself. If Sam couldn't keep his cool in the first hour, god help them both for the next 9.

"I mean, it'll burn your throat Dean, your throats pretty badly messed up. I'll stop off and pick up some pain killers at the next gas station if you need me to?" Sam changed his tone.

Dean just grunted in response.

_In any case he's staying awake. I need to be thankful for that._

"Dean, I know you don't want to talk. But is there anything at all you can tell me? Anything I need to know?" Sam questioned, probing gently.

Dean turned his head and stared out the window, his back to Sam.

"Dad's journal. Bloody M-ry. Mirrors, he wrote a- about them. I can't be sure, but i- it sounds like it. The last part." Dean spoke in broken sentences, but it was better than nothing. He went quiet after that, and Sam worried about what was going through his mind, he'd avoided eye contact since he'd found him.

Almost 3 hours into the journey, Sam spotted a gas station and pulled off. He parked up and unbuckled his belt. There was no way he could take Dean in there, but Bobby had warned him not to leave Dean alone. Sam sat quietly for a moment. _What's the worst that can happen? Dean can barley move. I'll only be a few minutes._

"Anything you want, Dean?" Sam asked, but Dean just continued staring out the window and said nothing.

Sam shook his head and got out, he walked round to the boot and flicked it open, grabbing the journal and turning the pages until he found their dads research on Bloody Mary and the lore of mirrors.

**-Traditions also hold that the soul is in the reflection, and is vulnerable when reflected - spirits/demons try to take the souls. Mirrors hold reflections of the soul, and also hold the future. _(Taken from John Winchesters Journal – Alex Irvine – slightly altered.)  
_**

Sam's head swam, key words stuck in his mind, along with images of Deans past, and possible future.

Dean's soul was already badly damaged. He'd sold his soul, he'd been to hell, he'd lost too many people, he'd died and came back too many times, and his soul was probably in pieces. Sam had no idea what happened to his brother in hell, and could the mirror have shown Dean his future? Was it that bad? Was something trying to take his soul?

_Too many questions._

Sam stuffed the book back in the boot and filled the car up with gas. When in the shop, he grabbed some painkillers, non drowsy and strong. He grabbed a hot coffee for himself and an iced drink for Dean, and some junk food to keep him happy.

After paying, Sam checked to see Dean still sat in the car, and he headed into the rest room and made a quick call to Bobby.

Bobby picked up almost immediately.

"How is he?" he questioned.

"Just as you said, he's in a bad way. But he's awake." Sam replied.

"Where is he?" Bobby's voice deepened.

"Calm down, he's safe in the car." Sam sounded irked, didn't Bobby trust him with his own brother?

"And where are you?" Bobby growled.

"I'm in the rest room, I literally just checked on him, he's fine." Sam rumbled back.

"Besides, why the hell didn't you tell me? I read Dad's journal. What the hell is happening to Dean's soul?" This time it was Sam's turn to get angry.

"Oh balls." Bobby cursed. "Sam, I didn't know for sure, there's a lot of lore, I needed to be sure on which one applied."

"So, which is it?" Sam cut in sharply.

"From what you've described, I think he has a demon entity, not a full blown demon, but a derivative form, that's trying to consume his soul." Bobby sighed.

"So what the hell do I do? How do I smoke it out?" Sam hurried.

"You can't." Bobby went silent.

"Then what the hell can I do? How do I fix him?" Sam sounded frantic.

"Just get him here. He'll be safer. Right now he's a huge beacon to every demon everywhere, the demon wards mean nothing now, and he's ripe for the picking, an easy kill. We'll figure it out Sam." Bobby hung up.

Sam pressed his head against the cold tile wall for a moment before grabbing the drinks and food he picked up and heading back to Dean.

* * *

Dean was in his own world. He seemed to be in a safe bubble right now, he didn't care much for pain killers, or whatever else Sam was doing.

He pressed his forehead to the window, leaving a greasy mark, but again, he didn't care. He closed his eyes for a moment, god he was tired, so, so tired! And too warm, boiling. He pulled on the handle of the door, and had to catch himself quickly before he fell out, catching his breath as the sudden movement burned through all his pain sensors.

The fresh cool air roused Dean up and he opened his eyes careful not to look in the wing mirror, he didn't want a repeat of last time, whatever it was, it was following him, jumping from mirror to mirror.

"Dean? Dean, we need to get out of here, quickly!" Someone grabbed hold of his collar, but he was in no state to fight back. Another familiar voice. Another hallucination. Sam would be back any minute and wake him up, so he let whoever it was take him, and wake up still sat in his baby.

* * *

Sam walked out of the rest room and looked through the windshield at the passenger side, it was empty. No Dean. _Shit._ The passenger door was open, and apart from a few splatters of red and black blood for a few feet, there was no trail.

Sam remembered tucking Dean's phone in his jacket and putting it on loud, he could never be too careful. Hoping Dean hadn't gotten too far, he grabbed his phone and dialed Dean, straining his ears for any sound.

* * *

_(So, how was it? Too much? Not enough? Let me know! Review! But seriously guys, the reviews so far, I am so thankful and grateful, they make my day! I can't stop smiling! I'm getting so excited about this story! And it's only just beginning! More tomorrow!)_


	11. Chapter 11

(_Okay, looks like I have an apology to make! I'm so sorry for not posting last night! I had every intention of writing and posting the next chapter! But I got back from work and completely zonked out, flat out asleep! But! I have tried to redeem myself by posting a nice big chunky chapter! I hope it's okay, and I hope you can forgive me!)_

* * *

Dean stumbled sideways, as who ever had hold of him dragged him at a quick pace. The tight grip on his collar made his shirt pull tight around his neck and it was a struggle to catch a lungful of breath, his eyes still half closed and in a daze, Dean was led blindly.

He heard a door unlock and glanced up, _a shed? _His brow furrowed in confusion and he dared a look at whatever it was that hauled him there.

_Oh you have got to be kidding me! _Dean was tempted to roll his eyes, but it was too cliché. _Son of a bitch, this is so not real. _

Dean chuckled to himself.

"What the hell do you think you're laughing at son?" John growled at Dean and let go of him giving him a shove further inside and turning to lock the door.

Dean stumbled into the back wall with a grunt of pain and stood on shaking legs, he squinted at the man standing before him, dad, not dad, whatever he was, Dean knew his brain was playing tricks on him, but this seemed to be one hallucination that he wouldn't mind if Sam let him live it.

"Dean, answer me boy! What the hell is going on?" John's voice was stern, it was an order, and it held authority. Dean hadn't realised how much he missed it until now.

"Sorry Sir. A hunt gone wrong, messed me up bad, but we're fixing it dad." Dean answered, voice holding as steady as he could and standing up a little straighter, good soldier mode had been turned on to its full, and Dean had gone from running the show to being dutiful.

"I'm barley gone, and you're already messing up! I knew I couldn't trust you!" John's voice increased in volume and Dean averted his eyes.

"You can't even handle a hunt! And what's that shit I can smell? You smell like the back alley of a bar. Get your shit together Dean!" John snarled at his son and took a threatening step forwards. _Perhaps it's time Sam woke me up now, _Dean thought bitterly, he knew it was too good to be true.

"And where the hell is Sam? If I can't trust you on a silly little hunt, how can I trust you with Sam? You're supposed to be the responsible one! How many times do I have to tell you, he's your responsibility!" John took another two steps forward and was poking a finger in Dean's face.

Dean was pressed up against the wall of the shed, he couldn't get closer to it if he tried. He felt a speck of John's spit on his cheek as his dad barked into his face. John's finger then prodded Dean in his chest.

"Am I gonna have to teach you another lesson?" John lowered his voice, and as much as he tried to hold it in, Dean trembled and bit his cheek.

"Cat got your tongue son? I thought we were done with these days." The tone of John's voice was enough to put the fear of god in any man.

Dean looked at the ground and prayed for Sam to wake him up.

John turned his back to his son and stepped away, that's when Dean heard the sound of the belt buckled being undone and his heart began racing.

"Dad, c'mon, I'm sorry, I know I messed up, I'll do better next time I swear! And Sammy's great! He really is sir!" Dean's words tumbled out of his mouth, all steadiness he had before was lost.

John bowed his head for a moment, his back still to Dean as he slid his belt from the loops, a cold grin painted his face as his eyes danced with anticipation.

This was not the dad Dean remembered. Sure, there were punishments, but not like this.

"Dean, take off your jacket." It was a direct order. No question about it.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and nodded letting out a small 'yessir'. His body ached and every movement made him cringe, but he did as he was directed.

"And the shirt, Dean. Then face the wall." His dad's voice was cold, much colder than anything he'd heard before. It almost sounded excited. There was something off, but Dean was too far gone to pick up on this, the small movements had caused pain to cloud his brain. He did as he was commanded.

Dad, or not dad, turned around and laid eyes on his 'son', he folded the belt in two and lifted his arm. Dean sucked in a deep breath in anticipation and shut his eyes. _Sam, Sammy, c'mon, you gotta wake me up man, I can't do this again, Sam!_

Dean's knees nearly buckled beneath him, the blow came down hard and fast. The shock hit him first, and then came the sting, the deep burning sensation running the length of the laceration, his vision blurred for a moment before he regained his senses.

"Please, dad-!" Dean's voice came out small, his throat still burned and the heavy breathing was only making it worse.

Strike two.

Dean hissed, trying his best not to cry out in pain, it would only cause his dad to think less of him, he couldn't let him see how weak he had gotten.

Strike three.

That did it. On a good day, Dean could last a lot longer, but he was already done in. His knees buckled and he winced as the hard floor came into contact with his knee caps, he lowered his head forward so his forehead was pressed against the wall and whispered 'no more, please.'

John chose to ignore this. His eyes flashed black and he grinned, he was having too much fun. This was his favourite kind of situation. Whenever somebody was infection with the soul eater, he wasn't far behind. Over the years, he had learned how to work with them and knew how to torture the souls of those who were damned.

Dean's eyes were streaming, and with the next hit, he couldn't help but yelp out in pain. He knew his back would be red raw and he could feel the skin starting to tighten and blister. Black spots were starting to block his vision. _Damn, Sam, where are you? I need you man. Sam, Sammy, wake me up, damn you!_

Strike five was different.

He hadn't expected it.

It wasn't just the leather belt. Dean recoiled and pressed his raw chest to the wall, his back went into spasms as the cold metal buckle struck his back, biting into an already blistering laceration and breaking the skin.

"Argghh, Sam, please, Sammy!"His plea came out raw and scratchy. He couldn't think straight, he just needed someone, he needed Sam. He needed reality back.

His breath came ragged now, lungs burning, he coughed up more blood as pain racked his body causing his insides to twist and his stomach contracted and he began to heave.

* * *

Sam paced up and down searching for anything that could hide Dean, _this can't be happening. Bobby is gonna kill me. He'll string me up for this. Shit, Sam, focus on Dean, c'mon, you're better than this, find the trail, stop being so crap, LOOK._

Dean was not answering his phone. Typical. Sam should be used to this by now. He searched the area around the car, looking for tyre tracks, anything, any clue. But his brain was running on over drive and he couldn't think straight, not with Dean missing and in a fragile state.

It must have been ten minutes before Sam heard a noise that sounded vaguely like Dean, the fact it sounded like he was crying out in pain, well, that caused Sam to come out in a cold sweat.

_Huge beacon to every demon._

Sam followed the noise, stealth mode on, demon knife in hand, palms sweaty.

_Ripe for the picking._

His heart felt like it was going to punch through his rib cage as he neared an old storage shed. _How had he not seen this before? It was obvious. Sam needed to get his head in the game, he needed to be more level headed, what he really needed was to get Dean to Bobby because he was proving useless._

_**An easy kill.**_**  
**

Sam had heard enough. The moment he heard Dean cry his name he knew he couldn't linger outside any longer. There was no way to further prepare himself, and definitely no time to.

Sam kicked the door down and didn't wait for any clarification, some sonovabitch he'd never seen before was towering over Dean, belt in hand, Sam charged him, not giving the demon a chance to react and stabbed him square in the jugular.

Anger bubbled up in the younger Winchester and he growled as he ripped the knife back out of him.

"Get back to hell, where you belong!" Sam's voice was dark, he was in protective mode.

"Sam! You killed him! What the fuck man! We only just got him back again!" Dean was sprawled on the floor, hunched over and a pained expression on his face.

"Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam frowned and bent down to face Dean.

"Dad! Sam, you just killed dad!" Dean was getting more and more upset by the second.

"Woah, Dean, hang on, just breath, please. That wasn't dad." Sam tried to calm his brother, but he was becoming hysterical.

"Yes it was. I saw him." Dean replied stubbornly, breathe hitching as he tried to come to terms with Sam killing their dad.

"Dean, would Dad ever hurt you like that?" Sam tried a different approach and Dean cocked his head to one side.

"I-I- don't know." Dean stared up into Sam's eyes looking lost, his eyes looked as though the tears might over flow and Sam could see the track marks down his face from where they had been watering moments ago.

"C'mon Dean, let's get out of here." Sam tried to coax Dean slowly, but he wanted to rush, he needed to get back on the road before they encountered another demon.

Dean nodded a little, not quite sure what was going on, trying to piece together what was reality and what was in his head.

"So this is real?" Dean asked. The question caught Sam off guard as he draped Dean's jacket around his shoulders.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked carefully.

"I'm in here, with my back all messed up." Dean indicated with a nod that pulled on his skin sending shockwaves through his tender back and he let out a stream of curse words.

"Yes, Dean, you are, and we need to get you out of here." He replied, trying to be a little stern and instil some urgency into his brother.

"And dad?" Dean questioned, it was almost inaudible.

"Hey, Dean, look at me." Sam took his brothers face into his hands and made Dean look him in the eye.

"Dad isn't here, he never was. Dad would never hurt you like that. You hear me?" He nodded in response and pulled himself up with Sam's help.

* * *

This time, Dean was relegated to the back seat. He was laid on his side as he couldn't lean back, and couldn't lie face down. _He must be uncomfortable._ Sam felt guilty, he shouldn't have left Dean alone, and now he'd suffered further pain.

An awkward silence filled the car, they'd been on the road another two hours, and Dean was in a grump. He wanted to sleep, but Sam wouldn't let him, not until they got to Bobby's at least. So, with Dean not speaking to Sam, it was hard for him to keep tabs on whether Dean was awake or asleep, and the more Sam checked, the grumpier Dean became.

* * *

_(So, how was it? Had enough of Dean being tortured yet? Nope? Good! ;) Gah, I can't wait to get the next chapter out! It's time to bring Bobby into it properly! And remember guys, please review and leave comments! I'd love to know where I can improve! And don't forget its my first SPN fic! Until tomorrow! Hopefully get a good bit posted over the weekend :) )_


	12. Chapter 12

(_Next chapters here early! It's the weekend, so I have no excuse! I hope it's up to standard. Tell me what you think!)_

* * *

They were now 7 hours into the journey and Sam was becoming more and more anxious, he'd managed to wake Dean up every time he fell asleep, but it was becoming more difficult. Dean's injuries were draining his energy and he wasn't able to stay awake for more than 10-15 minutes at a time.

"Dean, hey man, wake up!" Sam tried to persuade Dean awake.

"Dean, Dean! You can't sleep! Not yet! Hey man, c'mon!" Sam said a little louder.

Dean didn't even flinch. He was out cold. That's when Sam had a genius idea. He needed Dean alert, needed some adrenaline pumping round his veins. Sam figured the next time he woke Dean up might be the last before he was completely out cold, so, drastic times call for drastic measures.

The roads were clear, so, Sam let out a deep rumbling shout, blared the horn, and looked in the rear-view mirror at Dean. Dean's eyes shot open and his body jerked into action, he lifted his head and searched around frantically for the source of danger.

Upon finding nothing out of the ordinary and seeing Sam's amused face, Dean launched his foot into the back of Sam's chair.

"What the hell was that all about!?" Dean grumped angrily, his voice was coming back little by little.

Sam let out a laugh his brother's reaction, it was priceless, if only it was under different circumstances.

"Hey, you brought this on yourself, sleeping beauty!" Sam smiled, thankful his brother seemed to have come to.

Dean shifted in the back seat, trying to find a more comfortable position and grumped in annoyance.

"Not sleeping beauty, just tired, shurrup Sam, who asked you anyway." Dean muttered with his trade mark pout.

_No sarcastic come back, no insult back._ Sam narrowed his eyes.

"How're you feeling Dean?" He enquired.

"Fine, fine and dandy Sam. What the hell kinda question is that?" Dean didn't sound irritated or bothered, he sounded resigned.

"Dean, we've only a few more hours to go now, I hope you're not giving up on me." Sam checked the back seat again, trying to gage his brother's state by his facial expression.

Dean scrunched up his face, he knew what Sam was doing. He tried to look as defiant as possible, trying to get Sam off his back.

"Shut. Up. Samantha. No chick flick moments. Don't forget it." Dean retorted. _That's more like Dean. _Sam thought, a relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Jerk." Sam laughed.

"Bitch." Dean retorted, feeling reassured he'd calmed Sam's nerves a little.

Dean settled into a somewhat comfortable pose and stared into the back of the passenger seat, blood still pumping with adrenaline, his thoughts became less clouded and he followed them closely for the first time since the warehouse.

_How the hell has this happened, it was just a hunt gone wrong, he was pulled into the mirror, that fucked up mirror, knocked out from the moment he passed through. When he woke, there was some sort of black smoke rising from his chest, and the pain nearly made him pass out all over again, the place, he recognised it. It was Hell. He recognised the red orange glow, the dark everywhere but his immediate surroundings, the gut retching howl of the hell hounds, the blood curdling screams of the tortured souls. This wasn't real. Couldn't be real. He remember closing his eyes tightly and opening them again, he was back in the warehouse. He remembers puzzling over it for a moment, before looking in the mirror and seeing the broken state he was in. He saw Sammy in the mirror, he panicked, looked around for him, but Sam wasn't there, only his reflection. His thoughts cleared and his mind brought him back to the moment he was dragged through. He needed to get back to Sam back to the real world. But __**they**__ were getting close, he didn't know what at first, he just felt an impending disaster. He hurried to the mirror, but not quick enough. The barks sent chills down his spine. Hell hounds. They were getting closer. He could sense them now, a mile away, his senses could pick them up, purely because he was so terrified of them. _

_He dived forward, hand slipping through the glass, and grasped onto the frame, they had arrived. He felt the bottom of his jeans being ripped, the claws sinking into his skin, jaws around his ankle, he pushed on, pulling his way out of the nightmare. _

_He remembered grabbing Sam's gun and shooting the mirror to pieces. His memory served him well when it came to recalling the panic attack, he couldn't get enough oxygen in his lungs, he was terrified, and then blacked out._

Dean could feel Sam's eyes boring into him. Dean's breath had begun to hitch, the rise and fall of his chest had accelerated, and Sam recognised that look in his eye. Dean wasn't looking at the back of the chair anymore, not in his mind.

Sam wasted no time, he knew just calling his brother's name wouldn't be enough, so he pulled over and got out, rushing round to the other side of the car and opening the back door. He hooked his arms under Deans and heaved his brother out onto the road side. Dean's eyes were open, but he wasn't seeing, they were clouded over with watery tears, he was somewhere else, and Sam had to find a way to bring him back.

He grabbed Dean's face in his hands and called his name to no avail. He shook his shoulders next, and managed to get through to him a little. He was still seeing something else, but he could feel Sam. He could hear his steady voice.

Dean was having his panic attack all over again.

"Dean, breath! Breath! In and out! There we go, come on, keep going, nice deep breaths!" Sam coaxed Dean out of his head and into reality.

Dean blinked, those big green eyes, full of fear and confusion.

"Sam?" His voice was wavering.

"Yeah Dean, it's me." Sam replied nervous.

Sam looked tired, he had dark circles under his eyes, and Dean could tell that Sam was flagging, all this drama with Dean was exhausting him.

"You don't look so good S'mmy." Dean slurred as he peered at Sam's face.

Sam avoided Dean's eyes and looked at the ground. _Typical, Dean was more concerned about Sam than himself. _Sam hated this, for once, he wished his brother would just selflessly accept the care he needed instead of worrying for everyone else.

"S'riously S'mmy, you need t'take a break. We can stop yanno." Dean's eyes were half closed, but he was seeing Sam now, properly, for the first time all day, and Sam did not look happy.

"Dean." Sam's tone was strong. He was warning Dean not to carry on.

"We're going to Bobby's. We don't have much further. Only a couple more hours now." And that was final. No room for argument.

Dean said nothing, just closed his eyes and laid his head back against the cold metal of his baby. Sam got up and grabbed a fresh bottle of water, opening the lid he handed it to Dean. Dean glanced at the bottle cautiously, and Sam took note.

_Shit, I need water, but if Sam see's me shaking he's gonna start girling out on me all over again. _He also needed more pain meds, but he hated seeming weak to Sam.

"You got any food?" Dean's voice was like gravel.

"Sure, hang on." Sam handed Dean the bottle and wasted no time in grabbing the plastic bag from the boot.

Dean took his chance, hand shaking, he raised the bottle to his lips and drank, slowly at first, but soon enough the bottle was almost empty, having spilt half of it down the front of him. He set the bottle down on the ground before Sam came back so he wouldn't see his trembling hands.

"What do you want? I got M&M's, cold pie, crisps..." Sam emptied the contents of the bag in front of Dean feeling grateful his brother was going to eat for the first time all day.

He left the healthier food in the bag, he knew Dean would turn his nose up. Dean leaned forward, wincing in pain, scanning over the food, M&M's, his stomach flipped. Pie... A roll of nausea enveloped him. Crisps, he cringed just imagining swallowing them.

He hooked his finger in the handle of the bag and pulled it closer to him, after fishing around, he grabbed a ham sandwich and ripped off the rapper. Usually Dean would shove the full half in there, and it would be gone in moments, but Sam watched, almost in a stupor, as Dean pulled of little parts and ate them slowly, chewing until it was ground down enough to swallow without causing him too much discomfort. Dean needed to keep his strength up.

Dean's concentration broke and he glanced up, not realising Sam had been watching him so closely.

"What the hell man, you look like some creepy stalker." Dean commented, he felt sick as anything but he knew he had to eat, plus, he needed something in his stomach before he took more pain meds.

Sam wordlessly got up and rooted around in the boot, before coming back with a couple of pills in his hand and offering them to Dean. Dean glared at him, but Sammy just gave him the look, one that was not to be reckoned with. Dean took the pills, silently thanking Sam, and tried to dry swallow them to avoid Sam seeing his hands shudder further with the water. But Sam had already noticed, it was hard not to, Deans whole body was practically shaking, whether it was from exhaustion, pain, or god knows what else, he looked like he was about to fall apart.

The pills stuck in his throat and he knew he needed the water, he cursed and grabbed the bottle, taking a quick swig and setting it back down.

Sam's attention was then drawn elsewhere as his phone began to buzz.

"Where are you Sam? How long you gonna be? How's Dean holding up?" Bobby didn't wait for hello and let out a barrage of questions.

"We're about half an hours' drive from Sioux City. Another 2 hours to go Bobby." Sam avoided the last question and awaited Bobby's onslaught, they were behind schedule.

"What in the world have you boys been doing? Sightseeing? You're an hour behind! I thought I told you to haul your asses here as quick as you can!" Bobby's voice thundered down the phone and now it was Sam's turn to wince.

"There was an incident. We had a run in with a demon." Sam said, leaving out all the details, he knew he would have to come clean once they got there, but there wasn't time for it now.

"Right, well, I'll be wanting to know some more about that, you hear me? Now tell me, is Dean okay?" Bobby asked again gruffly.

Sam hesitated before replying. He wasn't sure how to put it into words.

"Why don't you speak with him?" Without giving him a chance to respond, Sam handed the phone to Dean, who shook his head frantically, and when Sam didn't budge, he gave up and snatched the phone from him.

"Hey, Bobby!" Dean tried to make his voice sound as normal as possible, which was no easy task, and made him cringe as his throat protested.

"Dean, don't you pull that shit with me. I know you're in a bad way." Bobby's stern voice echoed in Dean's ear.

"Sure. So, what do you want?" He stopped trying to sound normal and spoke carefully, his voice told a story, and he sounded awful.

"I want to know why you're not bloody here yet." Bobby grumbled, but Dean could tell he was more worried than annoyed.

But Dean had had enough, the past 24hours had really taken it out of him, his head was still foggy, and every muscle in his body ached, Dean had his own theories, he had no idea what Bobby and Sam knew, his mind was so messed up, he couldn't even remember his original theory, the one he read in Johns journal.

Instead, he blurted out his new one.

"Because, I'm going crazy Bobby, that's why!" Dean was almost shouting down the phone and Sam looked just as surprised as he imagined Bobby would. He scrambled forwards and grabbed the cell.

"I'm gonna have to call you back." Sam whispered, and with that he hung up.

"Dean, is there something we need to talk about?" Sam was looking at Dean intensely, his whole body rigid.

_Oh yeah, let's talk about the fact your big brother, the one who is supposed to keep you safe at all costs, is going fucking insane. Let's sit and have a chat about the fact he's reliving flash backs and having sissy panic attacks. Let's talk about the fact holy water burns his damn skin and insides. Let's discuss how useless he is, and how much of a waste of space he's become! _Dean's mind was going into overload.

"No. No we don't Sam. Lets' just get going." Dean spoke quietly, Sam had every intent to interrogate him, but he sounded so deflated, he left it, it could wait until they arrived at Bobby's, just like all the other crap that was going on.

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(_Okay, I know it's mean, and I do love Dean, but it was only a matter of time! How's it going? Anything I need to add? Work on? Is it okay? Might post the next chapter a little early too;) )_


	13. Chapter 13

(_Sorry for the long wait guys, but it's going to be tough writing the next few chapters, I'm on the late shift at work, but please bear with me! It's almost 2am, but I couldn't leave it another night without updating, it's short, but better than nothing right? I hope so!)_

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The brothers were back in the car, the only sound was the engine rumbling and Deans thick and heavy breathing, Sam made a mental note to check that out properly when they got to their destination, could be a nasty chest infection forming.

Sam had every intention of waiting until they got to Bobby's before bringing up the issue burning in his mind, but it wasn't sitting right, he had a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, this wasn't Dean, his Dean wouldn't feel that way.

_But he is feeling that way._ A voice in the back of his head was telling him.

"Dean-" Sam started.

"Sam." Dean warned, eyes staying closed and head pressed against the cool glass of the back seat window.

The car was silent again, Dean could practically hear Sam's brain ticking away, trying to find another angle.

"You can talk to me you kno-! " Sam tried again, and once more Dean cut him off.

"Sammy." Dean's voice was a little lower this time, it was his no nonsense tone, he let out a huff of breath steaming up the window. Dean was becoming a little agitated and it was making his head worse.

"But Dean, you can't keep doing this!" Sam's voice was gradually getting louder and louder.

Dean grunted, one hand covering his eyes, the other reaching for his stomach as a spell of nausea washed over him.

"You can't keep everything bottled up forever Dean. One of these days it's going to become too much. And it looks like that day is fast approaching!" Sam continued going into full rant mode.

"Stop." Dean pushed out quietly.

"No Dean, this time, no. You need to hear this. You've looked after me for years, wiped my kiddie tears, comforted me after nightmares, and stayed strong for me through Jess, and Dad. This is my turn. Something is wrong, and I'm going to be here for you whether you like it or not." Sam was in full flow now, hand banging on the wheel occasionally to emphasise his point.

"Sam, please, stop the car." It was barely a whisper through clenched teeth. Sam's badgering was causing Dean's head to spin, and another dose of sickness rolled through him.

"And you, Dean Winchester, are going to open up to me, whether you like it, or not!" Sam finished, feeling a little triumphant that he had finally stood up to his brother with this ongoing issue. That pride quickly dispersed as he heard Dean for the first time since he started his rant.

Dean was trying to hold back his gags and swallow sick back down. Even in his delicate state, he was concerned about the state of the car.

"Shit, sorry Dean!" Sam spoke nervously.

Sam pulled over, he couldn't remember how many times he'd had to do that today, before the car had even come to a full stop, Dean had the door open and was emptying the contents of his stomach onto the gravel, Sam reached behind him and rubbed Dean gently on his back, paying close attention not to touch the welts from the belt. When Dean finally sat up a little, he had fresh tear tracks down his cheeks. He must have been in a lot more pain than he was letting on, and the strain of throwing up had caused pain to blossom all over again across his body.

Dean pulled the door shut and hunched over, his breathing was heavy and laboured, he had a metallic taste in his mouth, if he had to hazard a guess, it was blood. Sam wordlessly handed his big brother an open bottle of water and a couple of painkillers, praying he'd keep them down, and feeling a little guilty after his earlier tirade.

Dean carefully took the bottle and pills from Sam, he ingested the painkillers with small sips, this time not caring if Sam saw him tremble.

They only had an hour left to go, and Sam's anxiety was hitting an all time high, Dean's face had a sickly white glow to it, a sheen of sweat soaked the surface, he was trembling and pulling his coat tight around him, but Sam could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

Dean handed the bottle back to Sam and quickly tucked his arm back around his middle hugging himself, as if trying to hold it all together. Sam couldn't help but notice the black markings beginning to map out the veins along Deans neck. He felt queasy and swallowing a lump in his throat, he quickly brought his eyes back up to the road, pushing his foot down hard, hoping the drive would make a temporary distraction.

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(_Was it okay guys? Please please please review! They make me so so happy! Any improvements needed? Tell me :D Hopefully upload more tomorrow night, if not, the next chapter will be up in the next two days! )_


	14. Chapter 14

_(Sorry again for it being short! I have limited time to write this week, but I can't just leave it and not update it for a week, I promise you'll get plenty more over the weekend! Its 1:30am, so I'm super sorry for typos and bad stuff, please forgive me?)_

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Sam was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to no particular tune, it just felt good to be moving, leaning forward in his seat, as if that would cause them to reach their destination quicker, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the feeling that this was only the beginning was hanging over him darkly.

"Dean, you still with me? How you holding up?" Sam questioned tentatively, but all he got in return was a half assed grunt.

"Dean, c'mon bro, I need more than that." Sam pushed a little, he needed to know, partly for himself, he needed some reassurance that Dean was still fighting whatever this was.

"M'fine S'mmy." He forced out through clenched teeth.

"Jus' shurrup askin'." Dean followed with a slur.

"Fine." Sam spoke curtly and decided it was best to leave Dean in his own space for a while, unless he started showing signs of deterioration. Dean had been through so much in the last 24 hours, he must need time to process.

Sam grasped his phone and thought it was about time to let Bobby know they'd only be another 20 minutes and fill him in on Dean's current state.

Bobby answered within two rings. Of course he did. He hadn't let the phone out of his sight, let alone out of ear shot. He'd been on edge since they started the hunt. There wasn't enough information, _idjits, going in blindly, it was only a matter of time... _Bobby shook himself as his thoughts took a dark turn and berated himself. _This is a damn Winchester, and those boys can get through anything._

"Sam." Bobby opened the call.

"Hey Bobby, how you doing?" Sam asked, there was nothing they could do right now, so he had time for a proper talk, and he felt rude not asking after all this time.

Bobby let out a gruff sigh, "Same as ever kid, and what about you?" Sam could hear Bobby's concern running deep.

"I'm okay, just worried." Sam responded, but he wasn't okay, and Bobby could hear the weariness in his voice.

"When was the last time you slept boy?" Bobby easily slipped into the fathering role when it came to these two, and sometimes, the boys needed it. Sam squirmed for a minute before answering, he hadn't slept since the morning before the hunt, and he knew Bobby would send him straight to bed when they got their once he knew.

Sam had to stifle a yawn before answering, "Morning of the hunt." He spoke quickly, a flicker of hope that Bobby would let it go, but that was small and short lived.

"Samuel Winchester! I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson son. How do you expect to drive safely after being up for nearly 40hours? That's about right is it not? What have I told you about sleeping when you can? That was one of the lessons your dad drilled into you. What are you playing at doing all nighters?" Bobby gave Sam an earful.

Sam sat there silently taking on board everything he said, Sam knew he was right, so he sucked it up.

"Sorry Bobby." Sam mumbled, feeling embarrassed, Bobby had that effect on him sometimes, making him feel like he was five years old again.

"Its fine Sam, just make sure it doesn't become a habit. You're going straight bed when you arrive." Bobby said with authority.

Sam was about to argue, but decided against it, as much as he felt the need to be by Dean's side 24/7, he knew there was no way to win this one.

"Sure thing. We should be there in about 15 minutes now." Sam sighed tiredly.

"He gonna be able to get upstairs Sam? Or he taking up residence in the sitting room?" Bobby queried.

Sam knew Bobby was angling for a full debriefing, but didn't want to directly ask, so, Sam finally filled him in and prepared him for what was coming.

"Well, his fever seems to be really high, I'm not sure how high, but he needs a cold, maybe freezing shower, he's pale as anything, I don't know how much blood he's lost. He's been hallucinating, he's not keeping much down. And the wounds, Bobby, they're black. I mean, the blood, and it's seeping into his blood stream. I've never seen anything like it." Sam finished in a hushed tone, not wanting Dean to overhear the last part.

Bobby was silent for a moment.

"Just hurry up and get here. Sam?" Bobby's voice took a different turn.

"Yeah?"

"He'll be okay yanno, he always pulls through." Bobby tried comforting Sam, if things took a bad turn, who knows what Sam would do. The boys had a thing about going to the extreme.

"See you soon." Sam hung up and didn't address the words of comfort, things were hanging in the balance, and he couldn't let himself have false hope.

"Dean? You okay? We're almost there." Sam said checking up on him, he hadn't heard a peep from him since he rang Bobby.

"Dean?" He tried again. He could just about make out the ragged breaths coming from his brother, it was distressing how irregular it was coming.

"_Shit!" _Sam swore after getting no response, pushing his foot down harder on the peddle, he could see the turn off to Bobby's, but they still weren't safe yet.

Bobby had the sofa all made up, blankets stacked high, fridge stocked with water, a bucket just in case, his table was covered in open books, he had been re-reading them, trying to find something he'd missed.

That's when he heard the familiar hum of the impala engine as it crunched up the gravel. _All hands on deck, _he thought as he steeled himself for what kind of state he was about to find Dean in.

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_(I feel this chapters been a bit of a let down, I'm sorry :( I'll do better in the next one I swear! Reviews? They make me super happy! And also, thank you so much for all the reviews so far, seriously, they really do make my day!)_


	15. Chapter 15

_(Couldn't sleep, so instead of waiting til tomorrow, I've typed this up now, it's 4:30am, and I know I keep saying this, but please excuse typos! Sorry! Hopefully its okay!)_

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Sam pulled up at Bobby's yard, seeing his old friend coming out to greet him caused him to smile despite the circumstances. He swung open the door somewhat hurriedly, wishing he had time to stretch his legs, but quickly throwing that thought to the back of his mind, Dean's health took centre stage.

"Bobby, hey!" Sam called out.

"Finally made it!" Bobby patted Sam on the back and glancing in the car at Dean, he sucked in a breath of air. "You weren't messing with me when you said he was in bad way, were ya." Unease was apparent in Bobby's face, "Let's get him inside."

Sam carefully opened the door, making sure Dean wasn't in a position to tumble out and rested his hand on his brothers forehead.

"Bobby, we need to get his temperature down. He's not responding at all." The panic in Sam's voice was unnerving. Dean sat slumped over, head hung low, the slight rise and fall of his chest the only tell tale sign he was in the world of the living. But the same couldn't be said for his mind.

Sam gently slipped his hands under Dean's legs and around his waist, gathering his brother in his strong arms, he had to steady himself for a moment before he took Dean inside, seeing his brother weak and fragile like this, it was never easy. A permanent frown etched into his forehead, Sam's worry never let up.

Sam carried Dean inside, with Bobby hovering around nervously, and set him down carefully on the couch. Bobby immediately went to the freezer and grabbed ice packs, wrapping them in dish towels, he laid them strategically around Dean. Sam grabbed a bottle of water and tried to prop Dean up right a little. He needed to stay hydrated, and it wasn't looking good after he'd thrown up.

Sam sat himself on the couch behind Dean, letting his brother rest on his chest and whispered encouraging words in his ear to try and wake him. Dean's eyelids fluttered and Sam could feel his muscles tensing against the pain as he regained a little consciousness.

Sam leaned round to get a clear view of his brother, and Dean's eyes shot open, he could see the raw emotion and fear in the glassy green eyes, and Dean's breath hitched as he panicked.

"S'm? S'mmy?" Dean's voice was barely a whisper, "Wh'ts going on?" he garbled.

Sam tenderly rubbed a comforting hand up and down Dean's arm, letting him know everything was okay.

"Hey, I'm here Dean, don't worry, we're at Bobby's. I know you need to rest, but I need you to drink some water. Can you do that for me?" Sam asked lightly.

Dean let out a soft moan in response, Sam held the bottle to his lips and poured a little in, Dean felt the cool liquid coat his mouth and sighed in relief, he lifted his hand up with what little energy he had left and tipped the bottle in Sam's hand so he could drink more. Dean gulped back greedily and Sam had to pull away, too much too quickly would make him ill.

Unfortunately he didn't pull away quick enough, some of the water went down the wrong track and Dean began to splutter and choke, Sam was at a loss as to what to do and helplessly watched his brother try to expel the liquid with wide eyes. After a moment, Dean finished, and dragged a weak hand up to wipe his mouth. Fear gripped at Sam's heart once more as he watched Dean smear away the blood from his cough fitting, and then he sagged wearily back against Sam. Any other time, Dean would be fighting his brother, telling him _no chick flick moments_, and struggling to get away from his embrace, but this time, Dean's body relaxed into the touch, and he closed his eyes, and sunk back into his minds hold.

When the room was silent, Sam felt the sleepless nights start to catch up with him, he laid his head back, arms still cradling Dean, and closed his eyes for a moment. Bobby watched the brothers, and it reminded him of when they were kids, Dean would always be the one holding Sam, chasing away his nightmares.

"Sam, you get some shut eye, I'll keep an eye on him and wake you if anything changes." Bobby called over to Sam trying not to wake Dean.

"Thanks man." And almost instantly, Sam was out like a light.

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Bobby watched the boys for a moment with a reminiscent smile before going about the normal tasks. He grabbed the salt and made sure all the windows and doors were covered, he set about making a few traps, and then went back to his books.

After 4 hours, Bobby thought it was about time to check on his boys, it had dawned on him that in the drama that had unfolded he hadn't tested the two Winchesters. He knew it would be easy enough with Sam, but testing Dean, Sam would not be impressed with that.

He grabbed a silver knife and a flask of holy water, and chuckled at the bitter sweet memory of Dean always wishing it to be whiskey, he wished Dean was more lucid, he was missing his humour.

He hesitated a little before waking Sam, he looked so peaceful, but he knew this had to be done.

"Hey, Sam?" He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and he woke instantly, just as he would expect.

"What's up? Is it Dean?" Sam instantly started checking his brother's temperature and checking his vitals.

"No Sam, it's just, I hate to ask, but it needs to be done." Bobby's voice was subdued, and he handed over the knife and holy water to the youngest Winchester.

Sam had a wry smile but understood Bobby's reasoning, he rolled up his sleeve and made a cut with the knife, nothing abnormal, then poured some holy water over it, again, nothing out of the ordinary. Bobby nodded in approval and Sam made a move to hand them back to him, but Bobby folded his arms and indicated at Dean with his eyes. Sam let out a resigned sigh, as if to say _is that really necessary? _But Bobby stood his ground.

"Only the water. I don't need to wake him for that. He has enough cuts Bobby, I'm not giving him another." Sam replied sternly.

Sam pulled back Deans sleeve, careful not to wake him, and poured a little holy water over his fore arm. Nothing could have prepared Sam for the outcome.

Dean's skin slowly started to bubble and blister and smoke began to form and emit from the area. The oldest brother woke with a start, an instant cold sweat breaking out as his eyes focused on the scene in front of him, he could see both Sam and Bobby staring at each other and back at Dean wide eyed and he felt his stomach drop. Dean's head began to shake from side to side, trying to deny what they were seeing with their eyes. His heart rate could not have increased if it tried, a new burst of energy, adrenaline based, coursed through his veins and he started to try and struggle free of Sam's arms.

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(So, how are you liking it? Getting better? Worse? Until tomorrow guys! Thank you so so much for reading!) 


	16. Chapter 16

_(Sorry this has taken so long, after being on the late shift, I'm dead this weekend, and I've had to host my younger sisters birthday weekend, so many people! All sleeping over! And my laptop was kidnapped for music, so, I only gained access to it again this afternoon! Back on the early shift this week though! So more updates! Yay!)_

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Sam's arms loosened a little as he took in what was happening, allowing Dean to somehow shuffle to the other end of the couch and curl in on himself. Dean scrunched his eyes closed and pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing his forehead against them. The pain burned fiercely in his back, the huge belt marks had yet to be tended to, and Sam had been feeling guilty ever since they arrived as he'd failed to inform Bobby, in truth, feeling that it was entirely his fault.

Dean rocked gently, his head making small movements left and right. He closed his eyes tightly, _it's not real. It's not real. It's just in my head. C'mon, Dean, man, separate it, this is not real, get back to reality. _Dean trained his attention to his arm, the sting and burn still raw, _just make the pain go away. It's not real. If you can will that away, you'll be back in the real world, back in Sam's arms. _Dean told himself. He pretended the pain was gone, if only for a few seconds, and chanced glancing up, immediately regretting it.

Sam was staring at him like he had two heads, and Bobby's jaw was hanging open, he couldn't take it, _why wasn't it going away, he was normal, he wasn't a demon, he was a good man. He was a changed man. He wasn't that monster from hell. Not anymore._ Dean bowed his head back down, hiding the tears that were threatening to fall.

Sam felt like he should have reacted differently. Clearly Dean wasn't some evil demon, but Sam's response was of someone who believed Dean to be _not Dean_ anymore. Sam's brain slowly started piecing together the recent events. The black blood, demon, the burned throat, Dean's reaction to the flask of holy water earlier, Dean was a demon, part demon, had a demon in him, something along those lines. But he wasn't acting out, he wasn't cruel, evil, none of those things. Quite the opposite, he was an empty shell of the cold hard brute of a man Dean liked to pretend to be.

Sam turned back to Bobby, he could see the man getting angry, like a demon had infiltrated his home and he hadn't realised.

"Bobby, hey, we need to stay calm, this isn't some normal possession man." Sam's voice was even, and Bobby just snorted, arms folded.

"Would you give us a minute, I need to speak to him, see if I can get him to talk again." Sam angled. "And would you grab me the first aid box." He spoke, a little embarrassed. "Dean has some lacerations that need taken care of." Sam finished.

"That's not all I'll be grabbing." The older man huffed and made his way straight for the weapons cupboard.

Once Bobby was out the room, Sam turned his attention back to his brother, his hand shaking a little, he reached out and touched Dean's knee gently, just to let him know he was there.

"Dean, I know this is hard, and I know there's some messed up shit going on, can you hear me Dean?" Sam was almost whispering, Dean just continued rocking and shaking his head in defiance.

"Dean, I know you can hear me. I _need _you to tell me what happened. Bobby's freakin' out. Dean, will you look at me, _please?_" Sam tried again.

"Can't." Dean's voice was quiet, but Sam could make it out.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Sam was lost again.

"I don't want to." Dean's defiant voice was a little more audible.

"Why is that Dean?" Sam had to force himself not to roll his eyes, it was like talking to a five year old.

"Because you'll see my eyes." Dean's voice returned to its quiet whisper.

"What's wrong with your eyes Dean?" Sam was really trying to hold it together now. He could hear Bobby rattling around, loading the guns.

"They're not mine." Dean raised his head a little, eyes still pulled tightly closed.

"Whose eyes are they?" Sam's heart fluttered in his chest a little.

"A demons." It was barley even a whisper. Dean turned away from Sam, opened his eyes, and saw the reflection on the glass of water, black eyes staring back at him. He turned his head to look at Sam, shame ran through his body, and tears spilled over.

Sam held his breath, waiting to see Dean's eyes.

"Dean... There's nothing wrong with your eyes." Sam squinted, brow furrowed, he stared at Dean's green eyes in confusion, _what the hell is going on?_

"But they're black Sam." Dean was wide eyed.

Sam shuffled closer to his brother and wrapped an arm around him, gently pulling Dean's head onto his shoulder.

"Dean, your eyes are your own. It's okay." Sam tried to reassure Dean, part of him knowing it wasn't doing much good.

Dean had gone quiet again. Sam remembered vaguely, from when they were very young, Dean spent a long time not speaking, he was mute, they had practically developed their own sign language, Sam panicked, a trauma in life can trigger an episode to happen again, and he needed Dean to speak.

"Dean, what happened? In the mirror. We need to know, so we can fight this, I can't help you unless I know." Sam held Dean firmly, and tried to convey how important this was.

_I need help. I know I do. But, I can't tell him, no, I have to. He needs to know. I need to fight this. For Sam. If it wasn't for Sam, I'd let it take me, whatever it was. _Dean fought with himself, and eventually, his stubborn side lost, the side that fought for Sam _always _won.

"I don't know what happened to begin with. Something pulled me in, I blacked out." Dean started. "I woke up, the pain was bad, really bad." He had to stop himself from flinching at the memory. "There was black smoke, coming out of this." Dean indicated to his chest wound. "I was in hell again, Sammy." Dean tried to tell the story, tried to stay detached, but the further in, the harder it became. The vision of hell was burnt firmly into his memory.

Sam just held his brother tighter, not saying a word, fearing that interrupting him may cause the story to stop. He knew Bobby was stood just the other side of the door, listening in, he could see the shadow of his boots under the crack at the bottom. They both needed to know this, so he ignored Bobby for the moment.

"Sam it was real. It was so real. I was there. I was in hell again. The sounds, the smell, the _pain!"_ Dean's voice hitched in his chest and he put his fist to his mouth, biting on his knuckles he let out a strangled groan of pain as the memory played again in his mind.

Sam was conflicted, he didn't know whether to comfort his brother, interrupt the memory for now, but it would come back to haunt him again soon, was it better to be with Dean while he processed, the situation was fragile, before Sam could make a decision, Dean carried his story on.

"Then I was back, in the warehouse, but I was on the other side of the mirror." Dean stared forward blankly, his brow creasing, as if he was back there, and confused all over again. "I could see you, looking for me." Dean paused, taking a deep breath, concentration narrowed his eyes, and Sam had that uneasy feeling all over again.

"They're coming for me." Dean's eyes widened, as if this was a new terrifying realisation, fisting a handful of Sam's t-shirt, he repeated, "Sam, please, you have to stop them. I can't do it again, they're coming for me." Deans pitch increased and his breaths were shorter, Sam worried Dean was about to have another panic attack, the signs were all there.

"Dean, I need you to tell me. You can say it. I've got you. You're safe. Dean please, who is coming for you? I can't protect you if I don't know what I'm fighting." Sam was on the verge of beginning his own panic attack now, there wasn't a lot Dean was afraid of, and so this had to be bad.

Bobby opened the door, setting the shotgun down, the kid had his tail between his legs, no need to send him running for the hills. He leaned against the door frame, and had to stop himself from joining Sam and comforting Dean. He was dying to know what this was.

Sam saw Dean's lips move, but no sound came out. Dean recognised this and tried again.

"She sent... Hellhounds after me." He choked out, barely a whisper.

Sam's head shot round and met eyes with Bobby who was equally alarmed. The two of them wordlessly communicated for a moment.

"Who sent them Dean?" Sam stepped carefully.

"I- I don't know." Eyes fearful, searching for reassurance from both Bobby and Sam.

"I'll go find out who can send hellhounds out from beyond the grave, well, the second grave, you know what I mean kid." Bobby turned back to the books and began the next lot of research.

Sam gently folded Dean forward and fetched the first aid kit that Bobby had left out for him. He rolled the back of Dean's shirt up, and couldn't help the gasp that escaped.

"Dean, why didn't you tell me they'd gotten this bad?" Sam asked gently. Dean just shrugged.

Sam was troubled for a moment, thinking Dean might go back to mute, so he tried engaging him in conversation again, Dean seemed to have a little more energy since he'd slept.

"Is there anything else that happened? Between then and now? Anything at all, even when I wasn't there?" Sam got to work on Dean's back, muttering apologies every time Dean whimpered in pain.

"Well, I don't know, it sounds a little crazy." Dean mumbled.

"Don't care. You should know by now. Crazy is what we're here for." Sam tried sounding a little cheery and tried poking some fun, but it was lost on Dean.

"Jo came to see me." Dean told Sam.

"And what happened?" Sam asked, but Dean shrugged again, in truth, he didn't want to repeat anything Jo said, it was hard enough to take on board the first time.

"Dean." Sam's voice darkened. "I need to know this. It could be important."

Dean snorted, "You really don't."

"Dean. Spit it out." Sam was hoping for something positive, sure, the relationship had ended tragically, but it had been a good relationship, a fairly stable one for Dean.

Dean chewed on his lip for a moment, considering the words he would use carefully. e didn

He didn't want his stubbornly protective brother having a seizure, so, he reeled of a shortened version, still with the main important details, but hoping Sam wouldn't pick up on many.

"Well, she basically said, "I'm a worthless drunk, everyone hates me, everyone I love dies, and it's all my fault", no biggie." Dean shrugged again, trying to put on his 'nothing fazes me mask' on, but Sam was seeing straight through it.

"No biggie? That's why you drank half a bottle of whiskey and crashed the car into a tree?" Sam asked raising one eyebrow.

Dean said nothing, just stared down at his hands, and fiddled with a piece of stray fabric. Sam's heart broke for his brother, whatever evil son of a bitch was doing this to him, she knew exactly what buttons to press. It was either that, or this is what Dean really thought of himself, this is what he expected. Whichever one it was, Sam didn't care. He hated seeing Dean in mental pain.

"You know it's not true. Nobody hates you. You're certainly not worthless, you're Dean Winchester! And people die Dean, it sucks, it really does, but it's not your fault." Sam paused. "But we really do need to work on your drinking habits." He was half joking, half serious.

"I know, I said no biggie." Dean grumped. But Sam didn't believe him, he knew this was eating Dean up inside, and who knew how long for, it could have been in the back of his mind for a long time, and this has just brought it to life. _The mirror shows a true reflection of the soul. Is this really what Dean thinks of himself?_

"Also need to work on that sense of humour too." Sam finished cleaning and patching up Dean's back, and offered him some more pain killers, Dean took them compliantly and grabbed the glass of water to wash them down. That's when he noticed he was trembling again. _Looks like the adrenalines wore off._

"Right, back to sleep Dean." Sam ordered, but seeing the fear leak back into his brother's eyes, he thought it best to finish the sentence. "I'll be right here watching you, any hint of a bad dream, I'll wake you up, kay?"

Dean relaxed a little more, and struggled into a comfortable position.

"And we're not done talking. There's more I need to know, this chat isn't over." Sam turned around and began tidying things away, Dean would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn't pounding so much.

* * *

_(Again, super sorry for typos, mistakes, etc, but its late! Forgive me? Also, what did you think of it? Still okay to follow? Next one I'm wanting some more excitement and action! Stay tuned! Don't forget to review and let me know :D They are what keep me going, and they make me so happy!)_


	17. Chapter 17

(_I'm sorry this has taken so long, life's been very crazy right now, but I promise I'll try harder to get more updated super soon!)_

* * *

And so Dean slept. And slept. And slept.

For first few hours it was serene. Sam was happy his brother was getting some rest, so Bobby and he could work on figuring this out. He found himself glancing over at him, a soppy smile on his face, the even rise and fall of his brother chest was comforting, his face was relaxed. The frown that Sam swore never left his brother's face was gone. He looked childlike and peaceful.

Sam left him undisturbed, back to his research. He slammed a few books down every few hours or so, which earned him some very disapproving looks from Bobby, and they both, like clockwork, turned to check that Dean was still sleeping and that Sam hadn't woke him. It was becoming apparent that Sam was beyond frustrated. They'd practically exhausted all their resources. Sam had even attempted a prayer to Cas, even though he knew full well the angel would not hear him. He was becoming desperate.

Several more hours later, he hadn't realised how much time had passed. He hadn't slept all night, face in the books. Bobby had tried coercing him to get some shut eye, but he'd refused. It was now 8am and Sam was convinced he looked like a zombie. It reminded him of pulling all nighters at Stanford before a test, he wished life was that simple, _back to the good old days_ he thought, but as quickly as the thought crossed his mind, he stamped it out. _This _is where he _belonged. Here. With Dean. And Bobby. With his family. _It was times like these that Sam often wondered what he missed in those years away. Dean never spoke about it. He was different though. The Dean he remembered, the one he left behind, he had been more carefree, happier, he wasn't as _heavy. _The Dean that he was reunited with was grounded, _darker, _he'd lost some of his spark for the good things in life. He seemed lonely, even with Sam's company, Dean was still guarded. He'd tried, but failed to find out why Dean built his walls so high.

Bobby had been out to pick up some breakfast from a nearby diner, the smell of food instantly lifted Sam from his stupor, and instinctively he followed the smell of bacon and eggs into the kitchen and found Bobby plating it up.

"Smells good!" Sam offered.

"Anything edible would smell good to you right now." Bobby sniffed, but Sam could detect the hint of humour and let out a small laugh.

Sam elbowed him playfully and grabbed a rasher of bacon, he hadn't realised just how hungry he was until he bit into it, his stomach began to growl loudly and he grabbed two sausages and added them to his plate.

He sat down and shoveled the food in greedily, a moment later Bobby joined him and the two of them ate in silence. After Sam finished his last mouthful, he paused for a moment and processed. Bobby still had food left to eat, but he noticed the look on Sam's face and set his plate aside.

"What is it kid?" he leaned on the table.

"Something's not right. It's too quiet." Sam frowned.

"What do you mean? It's only us and Dean, and he's still fast asleep." Bobby leaned back and made a grab for his food again.

"No, Dean can sleep, I know that, but not for this long consecutively." Sam stopped himself before he said too much, but Bobby had already picked up on it.

"Spit it out Sam." Bobby folded his arms and used a no nonsense voice.

"Well... God he's gonna kill me for this." Sam scrubbed a hand across his face trying to stall, but Bobby just raises his eyebrows expectantly. "He has problems. At least every 2-3 hours. Nightmares. God Bobby, they're pretty bad, I don't think he knows how vocal he is. It sounds so graphic, so real. Hell really screwed him up." Sam put his head in his hands for a minute, hiding the tears forming in his eyes. "I usually have to wake him up. Sometimes he doesn't come fully round. He sees me, but he thinks I'm some sick joke they've sent to torture him further." Sam sucks in a shaky breath and feels Bobby's hand on his shoulder giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Sam, you're there for him the best you can, when he needs it. That's all you can do." His voice is gentle now. He grabs the plates and dumps then into the sink. "Let's go check on him, wake him up, and see if he's hungry. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Sam sniffs, wipes away the stray tears and follows in to see Dean.

And there he is, still sleeping. The look on his face unchanging and calm. Sam gently laid a hand on his forehead, the temperature was still running high.

"Bobby, would you grab a bottle of water, he's probably gonna need it." He asked quietly, not quite ready to wake Dean yet.

Sam pulled Deans shirt back carefully, checking the chest wounds, they were still encrusted black, and his veins stood out, black lacing them like poison, but it had stopped oozing, finally dried up. He wanted to check his back over, put some more ointment on it, but he thought it would be better to wake Dean first.

"Dean, wake up man, you've played sleeping beauty for long enough." Sam spoke gently, not wanting to scare Dean, but loud enough to rouse him.

"He not up yet?" Bobby came back in and handed the bottle over to Sam. Sam chose to ignore him and tried to wake Dean again.

"Dean, c'mon man, I need you awake. We need to get some more medicine in you and clean the wounds." He spoke louder now.

"Dean?" Sam took his brothers arm and gave him a squeeze.

_Nothing changed._

"_Dean?!" _ This was not normal, and Sam's voice had darkened with worry. Sam took his brothers shoulders and gave him another shake. With no response he checked his pulse and then checked to see if Dean was still breathing.

* * *

(_Is this a bit mean of me? Sorry... Nope, not sorry at all;) More coming soon!)_


	18. Chapter 18

(_Oh c'mon, I wasn't that mean! I had every intention of updating before the night was over;) Things are getting a bit more interesting now, and we finally have some insight as to what is actually happening! I hope you like it!)_

* * *

Sam turned to Bobby, desperation in his eyes, on the verge of tears. "Bobby, what's happening? What do we do?" Sam turned back to Dean and shook him again.

"Hey, son, be careful, we don't want his wounds to break open again." Bobby spoke, trying to calm his own nerves. He knelt by Deans side and checked for a pulse, when he felt nothing, his heart rate increased, but not wanting to alarm Sam, he kept himself in check. He grabbed Sam's phone from nearby and held it against Deans parted lips. He took it away and almost immediately let out a sigh of relief. The screen was slightly clouded, meaning Dean was still breathing.

"Sam, it's okay, he's alive." _For now at least._

"What do we do? Why isn't he waking up? Bobby, what the hell is happening?" Sam's brain wasn't functioning right. His world was tilting, eyes blurred with the build up of tears, he had to sit on the floor to steady himself, taking Deans hand in his, unconsciously feeling for a pulse in his wrist.

"Calm down Sam, it could either be a coma, which I doubt." Bobby tried to stay level headed, at least one of them needed to hold it together, and there was no hope for Sam in the present moment. "Or, it's something to do with whatever evil sonovabitch is eatin' at him." Bobby turned and left the room, promptly returning with an IV drip.

Sam blinked up at him. "Why do you have that?"

"Well, I gotta keep an eye on you boys don't I? Can never be too prepared." He winked at Sam.

"What you giving him?" Sam questioned. Usually he'd be the first one to know, but his brain was letting him down.

"He needs sustenance. He ain't eating or drinking, so we gotta keep him stable somehow." Bobby grumbled. Sam had to look away as Bobby fitted the drip. He wasn't squeamish, he just hated seeing his brother hooked up to devices to help him stay alive. He wasn't ready for this again so soon.

"I'll watch over him. Sam, you're exhausted and you're no good to anyone until you get some sleep. I don't care where, just do it. No arguing. Here." Bobby chucked a blanket at Sam and ushered him away from Dean's side. He knew Sam wouldn't be happy right now, but he would thank him for it later.

Sam said nothing, just pursed his lips and threw himself into the chair at the other side of the room.

* * *

Dean slipped easily into sleep once more after Sam had tended to his back. His eye lids were heavy, and he felt as if he could sleep for a week. Within seconds the darkness had swallowed him, and he floated in a blissful peace with no pain. He didn't know how much time had passed, the only thing he could see was black with splashes of red. His calm hadn't lasted long enough. He knew this would come eventually. It always did. That's how it started, the colours, they triggered his memory, once he noticed the red in the black, there was no turning back. The smells came next, the black smoke burnt his nose, causing him to cough, the strong smell of sulfur, the metallic stench of blood. But that was nothing, nothing compared to the acrid reek of burning human flesh. He knew what was about to happen, his feet would touch something solid, the hot stony ground, and he would take off at a sprint, through the torturous maze, blocking out the sounds of screaming victims, in search of a way out, until Sam woke him from his nightmare.

He sucked in a breath in anticipation... But nothing happened. His feet kicked out, but there was nothing there. He became acutely aware of a burning tug in his shoulders, and followed the sensation up his arms. He was strung up. This was different. This isn't what's supposed to happen. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see better in the dark, the flickering of flames showed him the outline of an open door in front of him, and the four walls surrounding him, decorated with some poor sinner's blood.

He wriggled his wrists, feeling for any give in the bindings, but all he achieved was breaking his skin and blood running downwards, tracing around the taut muscles in his arms. He dropped his chin back on his chest, just holding his head up was draining his energy unnaturally fast.

The next thing he heard was the high pitched scrape of metal against stone work, causing him to cringe. He lifted his head, and stared directly into the eyes of pure evil.

Heart pounding against his rib cage, he began struggling and pulling at the chains once more, not caring how badly he damaged his wrists, hell, he would break them if it would give him a chance to get away.

"Hold still now." Came the sweet childlike voice.

Just like that, Dean could no longer struggle.

The young girl toyed with a knife, and looked up innocently at the terror filled green eyes.

"Won't you play with me Dean?" She practically sang.

"N-n-no. Get a-away from me." Dean tried to steady his voice, but it came out like a whimpering child.

"But Dean! We were supposed to play down here forever!" She whinged. "But you left me. You ran away. Now I'm going to have to punish you. Just like I did before." The room grew darker, she walked towards Dean as she spoke, and her voice was filled with anger.

She glanced up at the chains, and they fell away, leaving Dean to fall to the floor in a heap. He went to get up, but she forced him down with just a look, letting him know she was in charge.

"Lilith, this is impossible." He grated out.

"Nothing is impossible up here." She laughed, poking a finger against his fore head.

She sat herself down facing him and crossed her legs, still playing with the brightly polished knife.

"Do you want to know what's happening Dean?" She asked him affectionately.

Dean just nodded, unable to speak.

"Are ya sure? It sure ain't pretty!" She giggled.

Dean took a deep breath and grounded himself. "How do I know you're going to tell me the truth?"

"Well, I'm a demon Dean." She flashed her black eyes at him and he failed to suppress a shudder.

Everything about her made his skin crawl, he wanted to hide in the closest corner and close his eyes, the sight of her made his chest burn with the memories of the hell hounds ripping him to shreds, and the look on Sammy's face when it happened, he'd give up everything if it meant never having to see Sam look that way again.

"Demons don't lie Dean, we tell you everything, every last horrible thing." She flashed the bright innocent smile at him and waited for his response.

"Okay then, tell me."

Without a moment's notice, the whole room shifted, he was taken back to the night in the warehouse. Except he wasn't the one involved, he was watching himself.

He watched as he got pulled through the mirror, and then Lilith and he were on the other side too. It was dark, shadows moving, making the walls look alive. He looked at himself, and past Dean was staring into the mirror looking at himself intently.

"What am I seeing?" He asked his guide.

"Everything." She said quietly.

"What do you mean?" He joined her and whispered this time.

"You're seeing everything you've done over time, kinda like a flashback people see before they die." She sat down and made herself comfy, indicating Dean do the same, which he did, because even a moment's hesitation and she would force him to sit down.

"I don't understand, this doesn't explain anything." He shook his head slowly.

"Think back Dean. Are you really the righteous man you believe you are?" She was silent for a moment letting him think it over.

"This mirror, is very special Dean Winchester. For it shows you your past, present, and future. It shows who, or what, you really are." She spoke with purpose now, as if he should grasp what was happening.

"Dean, what kind of man do you think you are? Think long and hard over your life before answering." She clasped her hands on her lap and began to hum a sickly tune.

Dean was forced to think back on his life, just as past Dean was. He didn't have to think for long, his mind was instantly drawn to the fake memory of Jo from a few nights ago. That was all he needed to know.

Dean looked down and shut his eyes, counting to ten. He opened his eyes, and if someone had been looking closely at him, they would have sworn they saw his eyes glint black. "I am not a good man. I've screwed up way more times than I've done good. It's my fault good people have died."

"That's right Dean. And now you recognise that, where do you belong?" She asked tentatively.

Dean looked up at his past self, the eyes looked sad and empty. All life seemed to drain from them, and he watched as he lay down.

"I belong in Hell." He whispered.

"And what happens to you in hell?" She prompted him.

"I break. I become everything I hate. I become one of you." His voice broke and he let out a sob.

"That's right." She placed a hand on his knee and he didn't even flinch away. "Look at yourself Dean."

He stared, wide eyed, as he watched a dark smoky shadow slice open his chest, and then seep into the wound. His past self then opened his eyes, they both clutched their chest in pain, past and present Dean, as the last of the darkness was absorbed into him.

"You're not yourself anymore Dean. You belong to your darker side. You can't control yourself. You're mine now. You belong to me." She laughed, and it was so pure, but Dean knew better.

The scene shifted again, and he was back in the black void. Alone. In silence. The only company was his dark thoughts after his trip down memory lane. The most dangerous company he could wish for.

He tried thinking of other things, anything, but he was drawn back to reality, or what he thought was reality, just by the darkness which surrounded him, acting as a constant reminder or the darkness inside him.

Something tugged at the corner of his mind and he was drawn to it.

Someone was trying to get through to him.

He focused on the voice. It pulled him away from the shadows, he wiled himself to follow the sound. His mind felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, but he pushed on. The familiar voice, it made him feel almost alive_. It was- it was-... Sam! He knew he recognised the voice. C'mon Dean. Sam needs you. Find your way back to him! He needs me awake. I need more medicine. I need to get better. For Sam. _He could feel himself being shaken, he wanted to let out a grunt of annoyance, a groan of pain, but found he couldn't.

He couldn't move. He couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't speak. Or make any sound.

He had no control over his own body.

* * *

(_So, how's it going? Are you liking the direction? Poor Dean baby! We all know how strong Dean is? What the hell is gonna happen when he actually wakes up! Should Bobby have put the gun away so soon? I am terrible! But I'm a sucker for a cliff hanger! Sorry! Reviews would be awesome! Anything you want to see happen? Or don't want to happen? Let me know! They make me super happy!)_


	19. Chapter 19

(_Super quick update or what;) Evening guys! Enjoy!)_

* * *

Dean had been gone for 3 whole days now. He hadn't moved an inch, except for the times Sam and Bobby shifted him so they could tend his wounds. Sam had finally calmed down enough to look at the situation rationally, and Bobby couldn't have been more thankful, it was bad enough having one handful of a Winchester lad, let alone two. Dean slept peacefully, or that's how it seemed, sometimes Sam swore he saw Dean move, and butterflies exploded in his stomach, but this was short lived, and he gave up hope after 2 days.

In this time, Bobby and Sam had managed to piece together some information. Bobby had called in a few favours and they managed to get hold of some incredibly old books. Sam had leafed over them more than once, and each time he found something more. The mirror had no origin, because it seemed to have been a part of the world since the beginning, something that came from heaven, that Lucifer had dragged to hell. It was a pure object, one showing the reflection of everything good and innocent in a person or being, but that had been twisted, and there was no answer as to how perverse it had become. The mirror was to bring the angels hope for the future and show them what their path was. It highlighted the goodness in their past, it made their present glow, and showed them a divine future.

Lucifer, in true devilish fashion, had turned the mirror into a reflection of quite the opposite. Instead of presenting excellence, it revealed everything distasteful that a person had done or experienced.

_The death of their mother, Mary._

_The death of their Dad, John, to save Dean's life._

_Which Sam was only too aware that Dean blamed himself._

_Not getting to Sam in time before he was stabbed._

_Again, Sam knew Dean blamed himself._

_That's why he sold his soul, to bring Sam back._

_He endured years upon years of torture in hell._

_He became what they wanted, he tortured sinners in hell._

_Telling Sam what happened to him in hell, Sam could never begin to understand how hard that was for his brother. To admit he became what they hunted._

_The angels asking Dean to torture Alastair for information._

_Finding out he was the one who broke the first seal._

_Dean had to stay strong through the time of Sam going cold turkey from Demon blood._

_Dean becoming a vampire._

_Erasing Ben and Lisa from his life so they were no longer in danger._

_Dean could never do his one job right. He had one job, to always look out for Sam, to always protect Sammy, but he had failed on numerous occasions._

Sam could practically read Dean like a book. He disagreed, but that didn't stop Dean believing these things. The only way Dean had survived this long, is through building up his wall, pushing these thoughts behind it, and pretending they weren't there. If this had caused the walls to break in Deans mind, Sam quivered, this would be very, very, bad.

Bobby had gone out to get more supplies, the IV needed replacing, and the medical kit needed replenishing. Sam sat himself down in the chair facing Dean, and before he knew it, his eyes had slid closed and he was sound asleep.

* * *

Dean had no idea how time was passing. He couldn't distinguish light from dark, it could have been hours, days, or weeks. He floated there, in the darkness, occasionally being pulled back to what sounded like reality when he heard Sam's voice speaking to him gently, he sometimes tuned into Sam and Bobby's conversations, only hearing snippets. He wondered what he was missing, but mostly, he wondered over his fuck ups.

His mind relived each retched memory, reminding him of how far from honourable he was.

Without any warning, everything turned bright white. He shied away from the sudden change, and his eyes narrowed, trying to adjust to the change. He was staring at the familiar ceiling of Bobby's lounge. He remembered it from the numerous times he'd passed out in this very position.

The world tilted on its axis and Dean found himself sat up straight. He glanced at Sam and it warmed his heart_, little Sammy, standing guard over his big brother. _Dean smiled, or tried to smile, but found his face unmoving.

"Hey, Sam, my turn to shoot some sleeping beauty jokes your way!" He joked, but heard no sound.

Sam stayed fast asleep, completely unaware of his brother.

"Hey, what the hell man!" Dean tried again, his mouth didn't even open a crack. He tried with all his might to move, to stand, walk, kick, lift his arm, shake his head, even move a finger, he couldn't even blink. Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, to the point they should be burning, but still nothing.

He knew this feeling, it was familiar, like from a trance. But it was no dream, it was a nightmare.

This was the exact feeling he had when he agreed to do their bidding in hell.

He had abandoned control.

He watched as the world moved again, _no,_ he had to get that out of his head, _it wasn't the world moving, it was __**him**__ moving._

Dean watched as he walked to the front door, and tried to exit. He was stopped in his tracks by the line of salt across the floor. He felt himself sigh angrily, and then he was moving backwards. The next thing he knew he was hurtling towards the door with such force, he couldn't have stopped himself even if he had been in control.

And just like that, he was back in control. He stumbled through the door with a large thump. The demon had given up control, so Dean could be human enough to pass over the salt lines. He fell flat on his face, scrambling up onto his feet, he turned to find Sam stood in the doorway.

"Sam- I-!" Dean began to speak, but was cut short as he saw the huge smile flourish onto his younger brother's face.

"Dean! Hey! You're up!" Sam stepped forwards towards his brother, but faltered when Dean took a step back.

"Sam- there's something you need to know, I'm not in cont-!" Dean was cut short when his mouth shut closed.

"Dean? I don't understand?" Sam tried approaching his brother again, but this time, it was the black eyes the stopped him in his tracks. The cold smirk the graced his brother's lips sent a chill down his spin.

"What's the matter Sam?" The black eyed Dean asked.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Brother." Sam gritted out.

Dean pounded against the walls of his confinement in his head. He needed to reach out to Sam. He didn't trust this dark Dean, not when he knew what he was capable of. He needed to tell Sam to run.

"Oh, but Sammy-" He began.

"Don't call me that. Only Dean has a right to call me that." Sam's teeth were clenched and he was fighting the urge to attack, but he couldn't risk further injury to his brother.

"You don't get it, do you Sammy? I _am _your brother. I am as much a part of him as every other side he has. I am what's left, Sam." The black eyed demon spat the last sentence.

Dean took a threatening step towards Sam and Sam backed away.

* * *

(_So, it's taken a dark turn... I hope you like it! Let me know please! Reviews make my day! And make me update quicker;) Come on!)_


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